


We Prefer Good Love to Gold

by i_am_girlfriday



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Relationship, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Blow Jobs, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Comeplay, Emotionally Constipated Derek, Friends to Lovers, Implied Versatile Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Makeover, Masturbation, Matchmaking, Minor Lydia Martin/Erica Reyes, Past Danny Mahealani/Stiles Stilinski, Past Derek Hale/Paige, Past Jennifer Blake/Derek Hale, Pining, Reality TV, Scenting, Sharing a Bed, Top Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-02 04:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 63,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2799734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_girlfriday/pseuds/i_am_girlfriday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This week on <i>Millionaire Matchmaker: Supernatural Edition</i> - Derek Hale, a thirty-year-old millionaire venture capitalist and beta werewolf, finally gives into his sisters’ pressures to start dating again and reluctantly agrees to use the services of a supernatural matchmaker. Stiles Stilinski, at age twenty-five, just sold his start-up to Google for undisclosed millions, and ends up on a reality dating show when his true alpha best friend tries to help him get over his broken heart.</p><p>***</p><p>The last thing anyone expects is for the two eligible bachelors to fall in love with each other behind the scenes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. some boys don't know how to love

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to all my cheerleaders, friends, and followers who've listened to me angst over this mostly fluffy story! I've been working on this sporadically since April. As it stands, I've written 54k words, and it's eight chapters long. Six chapters have been beta-read, so posting will happen as quick as I can go through and finish up edits.

Erica looks in the mirror to check her makeup and flips her hair over her shoulder. The lighting and sound people are working their magic, and Isaac and Boyd are busying themselves clearing off Erica’s desk and queueing up their videos for the scene. This is one of Erica’s favorite segments to film--her reaction to the millionaires who’ve submitted videos for entry into her club. She’s already prescreened these millionaires on paper and the production people have cleared them for the series. She spots the little logo on the back of a crew member’s jacket and laughs at the title of her show: “Millionaire Matchmaker: Supernatural Edition.” It’s their second season and they’re a mid-rated series on the Shifter Network. Erica has been in the matchmaking industry for the past seven years in one way or another, and she’s proud of the business she’s built with her friends.

The director signals for everyone to get into place and someone calls action. Erica waltzes into frame and greets her assistants. “Morning! How are you guys? Have a good weekend?”

Boyd and Isaac smile on cue and provide banter about going out, how tiring the whole dating scene is in Los Angeles. 

“I just want to stay home and watch _Star Wars_.” Isaac pouts.

“I’m almost ready to let you set me up,” Boyd adds.

Erica squeals in delight. Boyd is a catch. She’d date him herself if they weren’t like family. “All right, well maybe after you show me who you’ve got for the club this week. I’m not going to have to fire you two, am I?” She lays it on thick. Boyd and Isaac are great employees, not matter the running joke that she’ll fire them. 

“I think you’ll really like my millionaire,” Boyd says. He’s cool and confident, but when is he not?

“We’ll see about that.” Erica takes a seat on the stylish white leather chair and spins toward the screen, showing off her trademark leopard print heels.

Boyd hits play and the video starts to roll. 

"I’m Derek Hale. I’m a thirty-year-old werewolf from northern California. My net worth is about ten million dollars. My parents made their money in the tech industry, and now my siblings and I invest in startups. It’s a risky business, but a lucrative one.” Derek raises an eyebrow at the camera, possibly directing it at whoever is behind it. “I’m filming this video under duress. My sisters have absolutely no idea how to mind their own business. They said if I gave Erica’s service a chance, then they’d back off for a while. We’ll see if they hold up their end of the bargain." 

Erica’s nostrils flare. Her potential client is _hot_ , she won’t have any trouble setting him up, but she suspects he’s going to be a pain in the ass. Combative clients are the hardest to deal with, and if Derek’s only doing this to make someone else happy, then she doesn’t want to waste her time. The video looks like it was shot in his office. In the background Erica can see stacks of papers and folders, like Derek was in the middle of work just moments before the camera started rolling. In the background is a window that overlooks trees and hills, a far cry from the city skylines that are usually prominent in client videos. If Derek is really worth as much as he claims, then he certainly doesn’t let it go to his head. His office is nice, but it’s not sleek enough to have been professionally styled.His sweater shows off his upper body without actually revealing any skin, and though he’s attractive, he doesn’t seem excessively prideful about his looks.

Derek scratches at his scruff. "I’m a mess when it comes to relationships." His voice softens a bit. “I’ve had a few significant relationships. Obviously none of them ended well, or I wouldn’t be doing this.” 

The look Derek gives the camera is painfully honest, and it’s enough to make Erica at least curious about her potential new client. Erica can see his confidence is a bit shaken, but she doesn’t think he’s a lost cause. 

There’s a cut scene to Derek working out and another of him driving a fancy car. Erica rolls her eyes but knows Derek’s video will play well for TV. He’s clearly genetically gifted--his eyes are an indescribable color, his hair looks effortlessly coifed, and his tight, muscular body is perfectly sun-kissed. “I lead an active lifestyle, obviously. I love the outdoors. My family has a home out in the country and I go for runs in the woods. If I’m in the city for work, I have to hit the gym hard.” 

There’s a gratuitous shirtless scene and Erica can’t help it if she licks her lips.

“I’m a born werewolf. Control is very important, and being active is a way to ensure that," Derek says over a shot of him lifting weights, showing off some glorious back muscles and a sexy tattoo.

Erica snorts at the gratuitous shirtlessness and Derek’s comment about control. Erica accepted the bite as a teenager to help with her Epilepsy. It made her disease manageable, but she struggled for years with control as an omega. She’s the default alpha of her ragtag group. Boyd and Isaac are her assistants, and together they’re their own little pack.

“My parents instilled in me family and pack values, so I do want to meet someone I could settle down with eventually.”

Most of Erica’s clients are horny douchebags who just want her to find them ‘perfect tens’ because they feel entitled to pretty playthings. They’re not like Derek, who seems to actually care about finding something more meaningful. 

There’s another cut scene to Derek in a spacious kitchen. He appears to be cooking with four stunning brunettes, two are obviously his sisters, and an older man seated at the table dressed in an obscenely low cut v-neck shirt. “I’ve been single for a while now and I’ve pretty much given up on looking. I respect what Erica does, one professional to another. My parents found each other through a matchmaker back in the day, and I guess all I can promise is to give this a go.” Derek smiles and the video fades to black.

Through the magic of editing they’ll intersperse Erica’s commentary that she’ll shoot later with Derek’s video, and it will be the open to the episode.

Boyd fixes Erica with his trademark look. “Well?”

Erica smirks. “You did good. I can’t tell what his deal is from the video. I’ll have to dig a little deeper with him. I have a whole database of women I could set him up with in a snap.”

Isaac is practically vibrating in his chair, waiting for his turn.

Erica turns toward him. “Okay, what did you bring me?” 

Isaac’s eyes go huge. “Well, my millionaire is bisexual,” he says hesitantly, “but don’t let that get you down. He specifically asked to be set up with women.” He smiles, knowing Erica’s constant frustration with bisexuals and redheads.

Erica feels self-righteous about bisexuals because they’ve given _her_ nothing but trouble. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.” Erica ruffles Isaac’s curls to offer reassurance.

“I think his breakup with his ex is still pretty fresh. He said it wouldn’t be fair for him to rebound with guy because he’d spend the whole time comparing them.”

“Yikes. I’ll have to dig a little deeper when I meet him. Maybe I should refer him to a therapist to work out any residual anger.”

“Let’s just watch his video.” Isaac hits play.

“Hi, my name is Stiles Stilinski. I’m twenty-five, human, or I guess technically a spark. I haven’t trained formally, so that’s not all that important. Anyway, I’m um...looking for assistance, I guess. My buddy suggested getting professional help, so here I am.” 

Stiles blinks at the camera, a bit like a deer caught in headlights, and uses his hands to animate. He’s charming without meaning to be, and Erica knows he’s going to be a fan favorite already. Erica laughs and shakes her head at Isaac. He’s a soft touch and wants to help every socially awkward millionaire. His heart’s in the right place, but Erica can only do so much with the paunchy and pasty. Stiles is at least cute and fit, if a little young looking.

“My net worth is a lot, well over a million. I sold my shares in a very successful start-up I used to run with my boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend.” Stiles looks down, his lashes are dark against his pale cheeks. “My mom taught me not to kiss and tell, and my dad taught me it’s rude to talk about money. I think that probably says a lot about me. I’m an only child and I’ve always wanted a family. I tend to rush into relationships.” 

There’s a cut scene to a living room with a big screen TV and two leather lounge chairs. It’s like Stiles got his decorating inspiration from Joey and Chandler on _Friends_. A cute guy with a slightly crooked jaw line waves at the camera and hugs Stiles.

“I live with my best friend, Scott. He’s a werewolf, hence why I am coming to Erica. Whomever I end up with has to be cool with supernaturals. One of my most important relationships in my life is with Scott, and he’s second only to my dad. And my mom.” Stiles looks a little sad. “She passed when I was a kid, but I know she’s with me always.”

Erica feels herself tear up a little. Who is this guy, she wonders. There’s another cut scene of Stiles in a nondescript home office talking on his cell phone and typing.

“I have a lot of time on my hands now and a lot of money. I’d like to travel, see the world a bit. It would be nice to have someone I could share those experiences with. As far as hobbies go, I’m your classic pop culture kind of geek. I spend a lot of time watching Netflix and gaming. I’m sort of a homebody.”

The scene cuts to Stiles on a field with teammates playing some sport Erica’s never seen.

“I joined an ultimate frisbee team here in LA and I go running with Scott. I played lacrosse in high school and college.” 

Stiles shrugs his shoulders, nice ones if Erica is any judge of the way he fills out his baseball tee. He runs his hand through his hair and lets out a peal of laughter. 

“I’d be really grateful if Erica could help me out. It’s brutal out there. I have zero game. I mostly just flail in the general direction of people I’m attracted to and sometimes it works. It hasn’t found me the love of my life though.” He smiles and the video ends.

Erica grins. “He’s adorable. Where did you find him?” she asks Isaac.

Isaac looks giddy. “Actually, he contacted me! Well, Scott did.”

“Wait, your college friend Scott, the _true alpha_ , is Stiles’ Scott?”

“Yeah, he called me up and asked if I could set them both up, actually.”

“Scott is such a cutie. He’d be perfect for our database. One of our millionaires would snap him right up.” Erica is already running through her mental catalog of eligible women. “Stiles seems like a good guy, which is unusual for our clientele. I’m used to working with fixer-uppers.” 

“I’m shocked you like him. You must be getting soft in your old age, boss,” Boyd jokes.

“I said he was a good guy; I didn’t say he was a catch. But with my help, he can be.” Erica stands to go. “Who am I meeting with first?”

Boyd gets up and hands Erica a dossier. It’s technically an empty folder. This is all for the cameras. “You’re meeting Derek first at the wine bar on Third.”

“Oh, that cute French place?”

“The very one.” Boyd helps Erica slip on her leather jacket.

Erica waits for the director to cut before she says a few final words to her staff. She gets in her flashy car and checks her lipstick in the vanity mirror. They crew resumes shooting and Erica drives the twelve miles to the French café. She provides commentary about Derek and the types of things she’s going to ask him during their meeting.

“I need to get under the hood and really find out what makes Derek Hale tick. He seems like a decent sort of guy, very family oriented, but clearly he’s had trouble in the past with his relationships. Maybe he has some bad habits that I’m going to have to break. I’m also going to really be looking at how he handles himself as a werewolf. He’s a beta, but maybe he does the alpha posturing. Some women might find that attractive, but they’re probably the wrong sort.”

Erica lets a production assistant park her car for her. She walks into the cafe and spots Derek with two glass of water at the table, looking nervous with the cameras rolling on him while he checks his phone. He hears the clack of her heels and looks up and gives her a bashful smile. He stands to greet her. Erica is impressed by his manners.

“Erica, it’s nice to meet you,” Derek says with an outstretched hand.

Erica offers a firm handshake. “Derek, you’re even more striking in person.”

Derek blushes. He pulls out her chair and Erica takes a seat. She peruses the menu quickly.

“I didn’t know what you’d prefer, so I played it safe with water.”

“Let’s order something with bubbles, shall we?” She nods at a waiter and orders two glasses of Champagne. After they’re brought over and they’ve toasted to a successful match, Erica gets down to business.

“So, I looked at your video and you’ve definitely piqued my interest. You’re a great catch on paper and in person.” Erica notices Derek’s cheeks flush again. “And you’re modest to boot.” Erica leans over the table and Derek laughs nervously. “I’m going to ask you what I ask all my clients. Why love now?”

Derek looks at Erica thoughtfully. “I’m ready. I’ve been ready. I just never seem to pick the right person.”

Erica sips from her flute. “Tell me more about that. What sort of people have you been picking?”

“I don’t know.” Derek huffs out a breath. “I guess I pick people who, for whatever reason, aren’t the type you can build a future with because we didn’t want the same things.”

It’s obvious he’s holding back, like he’s mulling it all over in his head. 

Derek continues after a moment, “I haven’t dated in a few years. I just haven’t felt ready to put myself back out there.”

Erica reaches for his hand and puts hers on top of his. “You’ve been hurt. I can understand why you’ve been taking a break.” Erica squeezes Derek’s hand. “Do you think you’re drawn to the same type of people for a reason?”

Derek leans back in his seat and runs a hand through his dark hair. “To be honest, I feel like they’re the ones drawn to me.”

Erica looks at Derek carefully. He’s more handsome in person than in his video, something she hadn’t thought possible. He’s the kind of guy that probably doesn’t have to work hard to meet women. “Do you often think your looks have anything to do with it?”

Derek nods. “People see me and they think I’m going to be one way, and I’m just not.”

Erica can sympathize to an extent. People see her big boobs and blonde hair and thinks she’s a ditz. They don’t see the multi-million dollar company she’s built all before the age of thirty, or care that she’s an expert in her field, and a third generation matchmaker. Erica takes in Derek’s physique and easy confidence and knows that some women might think of him as a conquest but aren’t interested in something meaningful with him. “Elaborate.” 

“Kira says--she’s my best friend from college--Kira says I’m just a down to Earth kind of guy. I don’t like to go out. My idea of a good time is staying in and ordering take-out. I hang out with family a lot. I guess people see the expensive car and leather jacket and expect that I lead some lavish or exciting lifestyle. When they find out I drive my car to pick up pizza for game night at my sister’s place, it’s a disappointment to them.”

“I can’t believe you’ve been a disappointment to anyone,” Erica lets slip. Derek’s bringing out her softer side, and that’s rare. She’s known for being a tough-as-nails matchmaker.

“So, do you think there’s hope for me then?” Derek smiles at her and this time it reaches his gorgeous green eyes with little crinkles around them.

“I do. But first, I think you have to see the patterns in your dating history so you can start to make different choices. It sounds like maybe you haven't been the pursuer in a long time, or maybe ever? You’ve been pursued mostly, right?”

Derek’s face falls and it takes him a second to recover. “Yeah. That’s a fair assessment.”

Erica thinks she may have just gotten to the root of the problem. “Tell me where you went just now.”

“I had this mental image of being sixteen and asking out the first girl I ever liked.”

“How did that go?”

Derek smiles sheepishly, lost in the memory for a bit. “She seriously disliked me. Took me a while to get her to warm up to me.”

Erica smiles. “She made you work for it.”

“Yeah, she did.”

Erica takes another sip of her drink. “What happened?”

“She was my first girlfriend. We dated for a few years.” 

Erica raises an eyebrow. “Sounds serious.”

“I was. She... I don’t know. We broke up and I never really knew why.” Derek sits back and plays with the stem of his glass.

“You loved her,” Erica says.

Derek looks up and meets her gaze. “Yeah, I really did.”

“And it hurt that it ended.”

Derek nods.

“Do you think that maybe you internalized that hurt? That maybe it was just easier to let people pursue you rather than you taking an active interest? Because maybe it protected you. Maybe it felt safer than going after someone you actually liked?”

Derek sighs. “Yeah, I guess I never thought of it that way.”

“Well, you have some more thinking to do then before the mixer. I want you to really dig deep and get in touch with what you want.” Derek has probably never given what he wants much thought at all. “This isn’t going to work if I put you in a room with ten gorgeous women and you stand around waiting for one of them to make a move on you.” Erica really wants to avoid the cliche about werewolves and the thrill of the hunt. “You’re going to need to be more assertive, get to know the women there, and pick one. You can’t fall back on what you know and let yourself get pursued. Understand?”

Derek nods. “I can try to work on that.”

Erica knows better than to expect him to change his bad dating habits overnight. She just hopes that now that he’s aware of the pattern, he can begin to address the issue. “Okay, tell me who you’re looking for? If I could build you the perfect partner, what traits are you looking for? What are your three non-negotiables?”

Derek gives her a confused look.

“I require that my clients know their three non-negotiables. These are the things that are deal breakers for you and you have to stick to them. So what are the three qualities your future partner must possess?”

Derek looks deep in thought for a few moments and then finally speaks, “I need someone who’s smart, funny, and family-oriented.”

“Those are perfect.” Erica grins. “Anything else you think I should know while I’m scouting for your mixer?”

Derek nods. “I’m surrounded by four very strong women. I spend a lot of time with my sisters, my cousin, and my best friend who is also a woman. Anyone who has a problem with them is going to have a problem with me.”

Erica takes a sip of her Champagne. Derek’s sincerity is refreshing. “Has anyone had a problem with that before?”

“Yeah, and that’s another reason why my relationships tend to be short,” Derek says with dark look. 

“Have there been warning signs in your previous relationships that you maybe missed?”

Derek’s brow furrows like he’s making important self discoveries. “I supposes, yes, there were things they said or did that should have clued me in quicker.” 

“When you say you want someone family-oriented, do you mean you’re looking for someone to join yours or start one with you?”

“Ideally both. It’s really important to me that my partner get along with my family, and I’d love to have kids someday.”

“Is it important that they’re biologically yours? What would you think about someone who already has a kid or two from a previous relationship?”

“That would be fine, too. I’m just really looking for someone who’s ready to be serious. I don’t mind doing the long distance thing for a while. I’ve got the means, and the type of work I do doesn’t require my presence every day of the week. But I need someone who has their own life, you know? I don’t know what we’d have to talk about if the person doesn’t have a path in life.”

Erica nods and thinks that Derek isn’t giving himself enough credit. Even if he hasn’t dated in a while, he actually sounds like he knows what he’s looking for in comparison to many of her other clients. “Dream girl or celebrity crush?”

Derek smiles shyly. “I don’t have a type really,” he sighs and blushes deeply, “but maybe that Kristen Stewart actress?”

Erica giggles. “From _Twilight_?”

Derek blushes again and rolls his eyes. “I know, I know it's a little embarrassing. My cousin Malia used to watch every interview with her, and I don’t know, there’s something about her. She makes all these faces. She’s interesting to watch, and you never really know what she's going to say.”

Erica nods. “Okay, so gorgeous obviously, with expressive features and a mind of her own? No small feat. Look, I gotta go and put together your mixer.” Erica stands to go and Derek stands up with her. Erica comes around the table and hugs him and kisses him on the cheek. “It was so wonderful to meet you, Derek. I’ll be in touch with details this week for your mixer!”

Derek looks nervous, in fact, he looks a little bit like a caged animal debating a flight or fight response. Erica supposes this is where Derek’s control comes into play. A less disciplined werewolf might have flashed his eyes or let out a low level growl, but not Derek. His muscles look tightly coiled and there’s tension in the set of his jaw, but other than that he’s kept his cool while filming the segment.

Erica reaches out again and squeezes his hand. “Don’t worry. I do this all the time. You’re safe in my hands. I’ll be in touch.”

Erica walks to the front of the cafe and waits for her car to be pulled up to the curb. She checks her manicure and fires off a text to Isaac to ask where she’s meeting Stiles. She clicks on the link he sends and sees that she’s meeting Stiles at a bungalow in the Hollywood hills. 

Erica gets in the car and starts talking to the rolling camera, “Derek is a sweetheart. A total gentleman, the complete package, really. Did you see how he stood up every time I did? Those were some God damn manners, right there. I’m really excited to see what kind of women I can introduce him to at the mixer. If he can really learn to be more assertive, I think we can find him a match he’ll be really happy with long term.” 

While the car idles in traffic, Erica checks her lipstick in the vanity mirror again. She switches over to Stiles to prepare herself for the meeting. “I liked Stiles in the video, but we’ll see what he brings in person. He’s a little young for my club, but I guess they make ‘em young in Silicon Valley. My guess is that he’s a serial monogamist, and at his age not a lot of people are ready to settle down. Maybe he gets too intense too fast. I might need to break him of those habits. Maybe he needs to learn to let relationships take their course, or maybe I just need to set him up with women who are on the fast track to marriage and family.”

Erica pulls up to a nice place in the hills and parks on the street. She walks to the front door and knocks. Stiles opens the door and greets her with a huge smile.

“Hi, thank you for coming! Come in.” Stiles steps back from the door and lets Erica inside.

Erica takes in the eclectic decor and the way it lacks Stiles' scent, as if he just moved in. She decides the place must be a furnished rental. “This is a nice place.”

“Oh, thanks. I can’t take any credit for it though. I was staying with my buddy, Scott, but he finally gave me the boot. I’m just renting this place until I figure out my next move,” Stiles rambles without seeming to mind the intrusion of the cameras.

Erica wanders behind him to the living room. There’s a lovely spread of tea sandwiches and tea in an actual china pot. “Wow, you went all out.”

“My mom…” Stiles smiles softly.

“She would have been proud.”

Stiles beams. He’s taller than she expected. His looks are less rugged than Derek’s, he’s not as classically handsome as Isaac, and he lacks Boyd’s controlled charisma. Instead, his whole body vibrates with energy that he can’t quite contain, and there’s something about him that draws Erica’s eyes to him. She settles down into the oversized leather couch and helps herself to tea. 

“All right, so I saw your video and I just want to dive right in. Tell me about your last relationship. It sounds messy.”

Stiles runs his hands through his hair. It’s a little overgrown and mussed, and slightly greasy with too much product. He laughs nervously. “Ah, yeah. So, Danny and I met in high school. Always had a crush on him. Then after college, we met up and decided to go into business together. It got intense, the business and then our relationship. I thought it was going really well, but then it sort of turned out that Danny loved the business side a bit more than our relationship. We just wanted different things, you know? It was hard to deal with since we built a company together. When I had the opportunity to sell, I took it. It was too difficult to be with him and not _be with him_.” A myriad of emotions cross Stiles’ face.

Erica nods and takes a sip of tea. “Was he just not ready to settle down then?”

“I think so. Or I wasn’t it for him, I guess.”

“And what about before?”

“Before Danny there was Heather. We grew up together and we dated in high school. I thought it was so cool to be with my childhood sweetheart. But she didn’t think it was sweet, I guess. She wanted to end things while we were in college.”

“And you didn’t?”

Stiles ducks his head. “I was sad she didn’t feel the same way about me. I wasn’t ready to be done with the relationship just because we were getting older. I thought we could keep growing together.”

Erica is taken aback by Stiles’ candor about his romantic side. She hasn’t met many clients so idealistic about love or willing to open up so quickly. She’s used to clients like Derek who need a bit more coaxing. “Anyone else I should know about?”

“Not anyone of note. I’m just really a relationship kind of guy. I haven’t fooled around too much. I can usually tell right away if I’m going to want to be with someone long term.”

“That’s a good thing to have, that type of intuition. You need to keep listening to it, but also refine it. You need to get under the hood of the car, so to speak, and really get to know any future partners and find out their interest level before you let yourself fall for them. You’ll be able to form healthier and sustainable relationships that way.”

Stiles laughs nervously and picks at a tea sandwich. “How do I do that, get under the hood of the car, like you said?”

“I’m glad you asked. I want you to think about your three non-negotiables. These aren’t physical things, they’re qualities you’re looking for in a partner. They’re deal breakers and you have to stick to them.”

Stiles hums in thought. “I guess I’d say the first thing I’m looking for someone who’s interested in a relationship, someone ready to be serious. I know people think I’m young to settle down, but family is really important to me, so that’s the second one. It’s just me and my dad, my best friend and his mom, who happens to be dating my dad. I want to have a real connection with my partner. What good does all my money and all my free time do me if I have no one to spend it with, you know? And lastly, I think I need someone who’ll push me. I don’t want to date a doormat, someone who doesn’t have an opinion or just wants to be agreeable. I think both Heather and Danny knew I wasn’t the one for them, but they just went along with the relationship because they didn’t want to hurt me. So I think I’d like a bit of a challenge.”

“Is that something you haven’t had in the past?”

“Not really, no. Heather was really sweet, maybe too sweet for me. And Danny’s the most likeable person in the world, everyone loves Danny. But I’m kind of a live wire, so maybe I need someone who can match me? I mean I’m a nice guy, but I can be a bit of an ass.” Stiles looks at Erica guiltily. “You know what I mean?”

Erica jots down some notes and smiles. “I’ll look for someone who can keep you on your toes.”

“Awesome.”

“What about your celebrity crush?”

Stiles laughs. “Oh God. I’m such a nerd. It’s not really a celebrity crush. Sansa Stark.”

“The actress who plays her?” Erica sighs just thinking about Sophie Turner. She hates redheads.

“Nah, like the actual character Sansa Stark.”

Erica cackles. “I’m trying to picture what about the character is such a turn-on for you.” 

“You watch _Game of Thrones_?”

Erica nods.

“Well, then you know she’s this great multi-layered character. She’s so stoic and strong, but she’s also vulnerable and sweet. I don’t know, I guess I like the element of surprise, an air of mystery. You just can’t underestimate her, you know?”

Erica tries to think of how she’ll look for that quality in potential matches for Stiles. “If I can get you in a room full of beautiful women who are serious, family-centric, with dynamic personalities, you have to promise that you’re going to do your part and really bring it.” Erica starts thinking about how she’s going to style her new client to really give him an added boost of confidence. “Don’t be afraid during the mixer to ask about their careers--if someone is really ambitious and they’re still climbing the corporate ladder or traveling for work all the time, that might not be a good match for you. You’re ready to settle down soon, so you need someone who’s at the same place in life. Ask about their relationships with their families.” Erica reaches out and squeezes Stiles’ hand. “And bring the charm you obviously have. Anyone who gives as good as they get from you is going to be a great match.” Erica stands to leave. “All right, I think you’ve given me plenty to work with. I’m off! I have to go plan your mixer!”

Stiles walks her out and gives her a hug. “Thanks for taking the time to meet with me.”

“The pleasure was mine,” Erica says and finds she means it. “You’re not someone we normally have in the club, but it’s a nice change of pace. I’ll be in touch, Stiles.”

When Erica gets situated in the car she starts talking to the camera again, “I’ve met with both of my millionaires and I have to say, I’m really excited. Isaac and Boyd knocked it out of the park lining up these clients. Now, let’s just hope casting goes as well.”

Erica considers everything she’s heard from her clients and tries to distill their wants and needs in a sound byte. “For Derek I’m going to be looking for career women with interests of their own, women who are not easily intimidated by Derek and his friends and family, but would in fact want to be part of his pack and start a family with him, and someone who isn’t overly aggressive, who won’t railroad Derek in a relationship. And for Stiles I’ll be looking for women who are serious about commitment and family sooner rather than later, and someone who can keep up with Stiles’ personality. Neither of them had specific ideas about looks, which is nice for a change. I’m really excited to get back to the office.” Erica gives the cameras a cheeky grin a she drives into the parking garage at her office.

***

Over the following days Erica and her team spends frantically putting together a mixer and contacting women for the casting session. Erica calls up her millionaires to tell them a few details about the mixer and give them direction on their attire.

Derek sounds surly on the phone. “I just don’t like the city, and I’ve already been here a few days. I just want to get this over with,” he complains.

Erica gets the impression that Derek likes routine and the comfort of his pack. Erica is an omega, essentially, so she doesn’t have the same problems pack members do, but she’s sympathetic to his anxiety.

“The mixer is in a few days, so you just have to sit tight. I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you and the other millionaire you’re sharing the mixer with a chance to meet. It’ll give you something to do, and maybe you’ll make a friend.”

“I don’t know,” Derek mumbles. “I have watched your show before. Usually there’s one okay millionaire and the other is a total tool.”

Erica snickers. “How do you know you’re not the tool?”

Derek is silent on his end.

“Wow, you’re awfully confident,” she teases.

“There’s no way I’m the tool here.”

Erica just laughs at Derek’s affronted tone. “If you must know, I lucked out and you’re both okay guys. His name is Stiles, and I’m going to call him up next. I’ll double check it’s okay with him if I give you his contact info. I’ll leave it up to you.”

“Is he a werewolf or another shifter?” Derek sounds leary of meeting an unknown person.

“Nope. Human. His best friend’s a werewolf though.”

“Well, I guess it wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Okay, just hang in there, Derek.” Erica ends the call and gets Stiles on the line next. She needs Derek to relax before the mixer. Maybe hyperactive Stiles can help with that. His cell phone rings and then he answers. “Stiles, it’s Erica. How do you feel about meeting your werewolf millionaire counterpart?”


	2. here's my story, and the story goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek meet for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my betas and cheerleaders. If it weren't for you, I definitely would have given up.
> 
> I appreciate everyone who read, commented, left a kudos, or subscribed to this story. I'm glad I didn't have to make you wait too long for an update! Merry Christmas if you're celebrating!

Stiles is busy puttering around on the internet and he hasn’t taken a shower since the day Erica came over. His phone rings and he picks it up without looking at caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Stiles, it’s Erica. How do you feel about meeting your werewolf millionaire counterpart?” Erica asks without preface.

“Huh?”

“I was just talking to Derek, the other millionaire that you’re sharing a mixer with, and he’s going a little stir crazy in LA. Maybe you could entertain him for the day or go for a run.”

“Well, I--”

“Great! I’m going to text him your phone number and let him know to get in touch. He’s staying not far from you.”

“I suppose--”

“Are you excited for your mixer? We’re just getting everything ironed out. Isaac is going to email you the location details and your call time.”

Stiles runs a hand through his greasy hair. “I’m getting pretty nervous.”

“Don’t get too wound up. I promise I’m going to get some great women for you and Derek.”

“Thanks, I--” 

Erica interrupts yet again, “I set an appointment up with my stylist. You just need to go in for a fitting for two outfits. Isaac’s going to send you those details too.” 

“Can’t I just wear something I own?” Stiles feels mildly offended. He knows he’s not a fashion plate, but Danny and Heather had both done considerable work on his wardrobe over the years.

“Do you own anything nicer than jeans, shitty ironic tees, and plaid shirts?”

“I wear _graphic tees_ , not ironic tees. I resent the implication that I’m some dirty hipster.” 

“Have you showered today?”

Stiles peeks around the room to look for hidden cameras. “How did you do that?”

Erica cackles. “Shower, get dressed, go pick up the clothes from the stylist, and keep Derek from climbing the walls.”

“All right, fine.”

“See you later! Gotta run!” Erica says and then the line goes dead.

Stiles flops back in his leather chair and ruminates about getting up to shower. He queues up one more episode of _Shipping Wars_ and then his phone rings half way through it. He checks the number and it’s an unknown one, but he recognizes the 408 area code. He suspects it’s Derek. Even though Stiles left the Silicon Valley, he apparently can’t avoid the tech millionaires even in LA He accepts the call on the third ring. “This is Stiles.”

“Hello,” says the gruff voice on the other side of the line, “I got your number from Erica. My name is Derek.”

He goes for friendly. “Hey, dude, it’s nice to hear from you. I’m Stiles.”

“Yeah, look, I don't know what Erica said, but I don’t need a babysitter.”

Stiles laughs. “I’m sure you don’t. But she said maybe you could stand to get out.”

“I guess it wouldn’t kill me.”

“Not a fan of LA?”

Derek makes a noncommittal noise.

“Don’t worry, Derek. As you can tell from my area code, I’m a Bay Area guy myself. It’s practically mandatory that we hate Los Angeles.”

Derek grunts. “925 is East Bay?

Stiles smiles. “Yep. I’m from Beacon Hills.”

Derek makes another throaty grumble. Stiles gets the impression he’s not really talkative and he isn’t sure why Derek didn’t just text like a regular person.

“Look, Erica is making me go to her stylist to get a couple of outfits, but other than that I’m pretty much free. Do you want to tag along and then maybe we can do something afterward?”

“It’s nearly four.”

Stiles looks at his phone to check the time. “Shit. How did that happen?” Stiles suspects he blew the day unintentionally watching a shitty TV marathon. 

“I’m guessing you have questionable time management skills.”

Stiles laughs. “Something like that. Okay, I’m going to hop into the shower. Text me your address and I’ll swing by and get you.”

Derek huffs. “Fine.”

Stiles tries not to find it endearing. “See you soon.” 

Stiles runs to the bathroom, stripping his funky undershirt and boxers along the way. While he lets the water heat up, he receives Derek’s address in a perfunctory text and Isaac sends him the stylist’s location. They’re not too far apart, or far from Stiles either. Stiles texts Derek a quick message and then climbs into the shower. There’s not enough time for Stiles’ regular routine, he has to skip the leisurely jerk-off, but he uses his soapy hand to rub one out. He doesn't even have time to conjure up a fantasy. He just focuses on hitting the right angle as he tugs on his dick. He comes in under two minutes, but it's an underwhelming release. Somehow he finishes up, finds clean clothes, and has just enough time to run some gel through his hair and brush his teeth. He’s out the door a little after 4:30. 

When Stiles pulls up in front of Chateau Marmont a bit later, he has the sudden realization that he’s a little out of place with his beat up blue Jeep. Stiles might be a millionaire, but he’s sentimental about his car. He has limitless funds for maintenance now and that’s both a blessing and a curse. The valet tries to come and park his car for him at the same time that an imposing guy with heavy stubble steps forward. Stiles assumes it has to be Derek. Stiles kills the engine, hops out of the Jeep, and comes around to the passenger side.

“Derek?”

“You’re Stiles?” Derek extends his hand.

They shake hands for a brief moment and Stiles tries not to get flustered. Erica didn’t prepare him for Derek and he kind of wants to kill her. She didn’t ask Stiles about his taste in guys since he specifically requested women for the mixer, but if she had, he would have said _muscular and unfairly attractive_. Derek is about the same height as Stiles, but broader and powerful looking. He’s at least a handful of years older than Stiles. Stiles has to drag his eyes away and gesture toward the Jeep behind him to keep the moment from getting really awkward.

“Shall we go?” Stiles opens the passenger door for Derek.

Derek hesitates for a few seconds. “Sure,” he says as he climbs inside.

When Stiles turns the key in the ignition, his Jeep makes a horrible sound. “No, no, no. Not now,” he whines. Stiles takes a deep breath and pats the dash. “You can do this. Come on, baby,” Stiles coaxes his engine and tries again. The engine turns over more successfully the second time and Stiles pushes down on the gas.

“You talk to your car?” Derek asks sounding amused.

Stiles notices his toothy grin and tries not to find it cute. “Yeah, I know. It works with plants, so why not with cars?”

Derek makes a face at Stiles that he chooses to ignore. They don’t know each other yet, so Derek hasn’t had a chance to warm to Stiles’ quirks.

“So, Erica didn’t say anything to you about a stylist, did she?”

“No, she said she trusted I had something suitable to wear.”

“That’s not fair, dude. Why can’t she trust me? I have good taste.”

“Maybe she saw your car,” Derek says.

“Hey!” Stiles exclaims. “All right, fair point,” he concedes. 

Stiles fiddles with the radio and weaves through city streets. He gets Derek to help him look for the stylist’s address and then enlists him in looking for parking. They find a metered spot not far and then walk to the stylist’s studio. Derek lets Stiles carry the bulk of the conversation, which isn’t a problem since Stiles can’t seem to stop his mouth from running. 

“I used to dress way worse than this back in high school. I used to buy my clothes like two sizes too big. Single parent household and all that. I thought I was helping my dad out by not outgrowing my clothes every few months.”

Derek gives him a nod to continue.

“So I’d be swimming in my pants and I’d layer up my shirts. I never thought it was that big of a deal, you know? But then my first girlfriend, Heather, would make me go shopping with her. I think my style was vastly improved. I mean, I buy slimmer fit pants and t-shirts and henleys that actually,” Stiles gestures with his hand trailing down his torso, “you know, fit.” Stiles is pretty sure if he stops babbling he’ll just fixate on Derek and trip over a crack in the sidewalk. “My ex was also a real clothes horse. I have all the nice stuff I got as gifts stored in boxes at my dad’s house. After the break up, I just… Well, I didn’t want to look at it. I’m regretting it now though.”

“Do you always talk this much?” Derek asks.

Stiles laughs nervously. “No, this is excessive, even for me. I’m just nervous, I guess.” Stiles knows he must reek of nerves and just hopes that Derek can’t smell his underlying lust. It sucks hanging out with werewolves, but Stiles has learned over time that it’s nearly impossible to mask chemosignals. The best he can do is try not to stress about it. “I don’t know what to expect from a stylist, or this whole process, really.” 

Derek opens the door to the address provided, and they walk in to a small studio with a petite woman sitting on an overstuffed couch flipping through a magazine. She stands to greet them.

“One of you must be Stiles?” 

Stiles steps forward and extends his hand.

She takes his hand and leans in for a kiss on each cheek. “I’m Caitlin.”

Stiles makes a face and tries to go with it. He kisses mostly air and laughs awkwardly. “Nice to meet you. This is Derek, the other millionaire.” He jerks his thumb toward Derek.

Caitlin greets him the same, but Derek doesn’t seem nearly as awkward with the double cheek kiss. Of course a man like Derek is smooth in social situations.

“Okay, Erica wanted me to get you in some clothes that are a bit more _body con_.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows. “I don’t even know what that means.”

Caitlin laughs and flits around her studio. “It means clothes that hug your body a bit more.”

“Hug my body more than this?” Stiles looks down at his shirt and pants. They’re not nearly as baggy as the stuff he used to wear in high school, but he supposes that maybe his outfit has seen better days. He’s wearing broken in cords, beat up Vans that might actually be Scott’s, and a faded thermal henley with a slightly stretched out neckline. 

Derek shoots Stiles a look that’s unreadable, but makes Stiles worry. “What?” 

Derek quirks an eyebrow next.

“Dude, I can’t read your facial expressions yet. What do your judgy eyebrows mean?” 

“Body conscious means tight,” Derek explains.

“Like how tight?” 

Derek points at Caitlin rummaging through racks of clothing. Stiles looks at her skin tight dress and he can actually feel himself blush. He can see her pert nipples, the outline of her thong underwear as she bends over, and he could probably see her lunch if she’d eaten any.

“What, no? No!” Stiles whines.

Derek nods.

“How do you know this stuff?”

Derek leans back and crosses his ankle over his knee. “I have two sisters, and I have been roped into shopping with my cousin and best friend more times than I can count.”

Caitlin assembles a rack of clothes and pushes Stiles into a dressing room. “Start with these.”

Stiles pulls the curtain closed and takes a deep breath. He tries on a few pairs of trousers that are way too tight and refuses to come out of the dressing room. “No way, nuh uh,” he argues with Caitlin through the curtain.

“Just come out. I’ll be the judge if they’re too tight.”

“Absolutely not. You can see my junk.”

Caitlin cackles. “I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not. Give me something else or I’m not coming out.”

“Don’t make me come in there,” Caitlin threatens.

Stiles strips out of the pants as fast as he can and knocks his elbow into the wall. “Ow, fuck!” He cradles his arm and gives a strangled cry. “That was my funny bone.”

“I’m coming in.” Caitlin tries to yank back the curtain.

Stiles shrieks manfully and grips the curtain to keep it in place. “I am butt naked! Don’t come in here.”

“Oh my God, did you really go commando while trying stuff on in my studio?”

“No,” Stiles says defensively, “my boxer briefs stuck to these insanely tight jeans you gave me.” Stiles hunches over his injured elbow and tries to untangle his underwear from the offensive garment. “Do not come in here, or I’m reporting you for sexual harassment,” he grumbles.

“It’s nothing we haven’t both seen,” Caitlin teases. “Derek, go and help Stiles out. By the look of your pants, you look like a man who’s comfortable with body con.”

Stiles can hear Derek squawking at Caitlin, but a minute later Stiles hears Derek’s heavy breathing outside the fitting room. He knocks gently on the frame but doesn’t pull back the curtain. At least Derek respects the bounds of privacy.

“Stiles, seriously, just pick a pair of pants so we can get out of here.”

Stiles peeks through the slit in the curtain and can see Derek standing mere inches away with a pained expression on his face. He’s definitely a man who’s been subjected to waiting for the women in his life outside of dressing rooms. He looks adorable.

“I can’t wear these, Derek. Reason with the lady, will you?” Stiles finally slides his briefs back up and grabs a shirt off the rack to try on while he waits for different trouser options. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” Derek sounds resigned yet sympathetic.

“I look like a complete and utter douche.” Stiles yanks off the stretchy purple shirt that highlights his nipples. The next four are no better. One is almost completely sheer, another is shiny and cropped, and two don’t even fit across his shoulders. He’s just about to throw on his clothes and stalk out when Derek knocks again.

“Try these.”

Stiles pulls back the curtain a bit, he’s naked except for his underwear. Derek has his face turned away slightly. Stiles grabs the hangers from him. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem.”

Stiles looks at Derek’s profile a beat too long. His features are rugged, but there’s something soft and beautiful about his eyes. His eyelashes are long, distracting against his olive complexion, and they flutter as he averts his gaze.

“Were you going to...” Derek trails off.

“Right, I’ll try these on.” Stiles pulls the curtain back in place and takes a deep breath. He looks at the outfit. The trousers are cut like jeans, only the material looks a lot nicer than the denim he usually buys. They’re a slimmer fit than he’s used to, but nowhere near as tight as the previous ones Caitlin picked. There’s a shirt and a jacket, too. Stiles wiggles into the pants and stretches his legs a bit, adjusts himself. He pulls on the white shirt next. It’s a simple sleeveless v-neck but it’s not so tight or transparent that he can see through it. Stiles shrugs on the jacket. It fits him across the back, which tends to be his major gripe about jackets. It’s not so boxy throughout the torso though, which is probably what Caitlin and Erica wanted. The whole look is more sedate than anything on the rack Caitlin selected previously. The clothes aren’t too trendy or uncomfortable. “All right, I’m coming out.” Stiles pulls back the curtain.

Caitlin squeals and claps. “You look incredible. Come here.” 

She bounces up and down expectantly and Stiles tries really hard not to ogle her breasts. Stiles walks closer reluctantly. Caitlin pulls the jacket back and forth and brushes off lint with her deft hands. Derek sits back on the couch with a blank face. Stiles can’t tell if he’s bored out of his mind or if maybe he’s enjoying seeing Stiles squirm.

Caitlin shoves up the jacket sleeves. “Up or down?” she asks Derek and gives him a backward glance.

Derek’s face shifts almost imperceptibly. “Up.”

Caitlin folds his cuffs up artfully. If Stiles had tried that he’d have managed to just look like a slob.

“Ooh,” Caitlin coos. “Good eye, Derek.”

Stiles has no idea what they’re going on about so instead he just plays with his hair. It looks like he rolled out of bed after trying on clothes for almost an hour. His hair is soft, the effects of the gel pretty much rendered useless. Stiles lifts his silver chain to his lips and plays with it. It’s a nervous habit he’s never quite shaken.

“What’s that?” Caitlin points to the Venetian box chain around Stiles’ neck.

“It was my mother’s,” Stiles mumbles with the chain in his mouth.

“It really pulls the look together.” 

“Really?” Stiles lets it go and looks in the mirror. It rests against the hollow of his throat, just above the V of his shirt.

“It’s a nice contrast,” she says with an enigmatic smile. “Don’t you agree, Derek?”

Stiles turns around and Derek looks like the kid who didn’t raise his hand but he’s being called on anyway. He’s actually blushing and Stiles really tries not to find it cute.

“Um, sure. Definitely,” Derek chokes out.

Caitlin skips around the room pulling more outfits together. “All right, and you need one more look. I think this is perfect for your date, but you need something for the mixer.”

“What! Come on! Can’t you just get me like an extra shirt or something?” Stiles whines.

Caitlin stomps her foot and points to the dressing room. “Go.”

“This is massively unfair. Derek gets to wear his own clothes,” Stiles mutters.

“Derek actually knows how to dress,” Caitlin calls back.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Stiles gripes as he heads back into the fitting room and strips. He tosses the clothes somewhere on the floor.

“Give them to me,” Derek grunts as he thrusts his hand through the slit in the curtain.

Derek’s presence surprises Stiles. He didn’t expect Derek to involve himself in the process anymore than necessary. Stiles bends down to pick up the clothes he discarded.

“You’re going to wrinkle them,” Derek says.

Stiles chuckles. “Ooh, is our little wolfy a neat nick?” 

“Don’t call me that.”

“Whatever, dude.” Stiles pulls the curtain open, gives Derek a playful smile, and hands him the outfit.

“Don’t call me dude either,” Derek huffs.

“You’re no fun, _Derek_ ,” Stiles says as he hands him the accompanying hangers.

“You’re the one that dragged me to watch you try on clothes.” Derek hangs the clothes carefully on the hangars and places them on a hook outside the dressing room.

“I had no idea this is what visiting a stylist entailed. I thought I’d swing by and get some clothes and that would be the end of it.” 

Stiles stands around in his boxer briefs and waits for more clothes to try on. He doesn’t feel so self conscious around Derek anymore. They’re totally buddies, their friendship is cemented in their shared agony, and if Derek’s actually helping him then the least he can do is be conversational. 

“Thankfully my clothes are the only thing Erica can change about me in two days.” Stiles turns his back to the mirror. He tends to avoid the full-length kind. He’s fit but not heavily muscled like Danny, or Derek for that matter. He has a naturally lean body; some of his lacrosse teammates teased him for being scrawny. Given his baby face (as Danny called it) he’s surprisingly hairy. He has a dark happy trail that leads down into his boxers. He rakes his fingers through it and lets out an audible sigh. He rolls his shoulders a few times and tries to shake the tension in them. He’s never liked being the center of attention, but he’s about to go on television so he probably needs to get over it.

Derek coughs outside the fitting room. “Here,” he says as he shoves another handful of clothes inside the curtain.

Stiles examines Derek’s tan forearm dusted in fine hair and his neatly trimmed nails. He wonders what he looks like wolfed out. He’s just curious, but luckily he censors himself before asking aloud. He grabs the hangers and looks at the newest batch of clothes. There’s the matching trousers to the suit jacket from before, if he’s not mistaken, a short sleeve button down shirt, and a black skinny tie. Stiles has avoided short sleeve button downs because he doesn’t want to be mistaken for an accountant. But he’ll defer to Caitlin’s judgment, if only because he has to, or else Erica will flay him alive. He doesn’t bother closing the curtain, just dresses quickly and gives up on the tie after trying to get the skinny thing to look like something resembling a knot. He struts out of the changing area for dramatic flair. He hopes if he shows enthusiasm Caitlin will approve of the look and send him on his way.

Caitlin looks really pleased and dances around Stiles while fixing his tie. It’s a struggle again not to notice her curves in her tiny dress. For lack of a safer place to look, Stiles looks in the mirror. Derek’s sitting again on the couch and his face remains aggressively neutral. Stiles cannot read the guy. He’s taciturn, but friendly. He teases Stiles easily, but doesn’t seem to appreciate it in return. Derek looks resigned to his fate of spending his evening watching Stiles try on clothes.

“Do I look okay?” Stiles asks nervously.

“You look fantastic,” Caitlin says as she turns in around. “I didn’t believe you, but I guess you’re right, Derek,” she says grudgingly.

“Right about what?”

Derek coughs again. “Nothing. Just that sometimes simple is better.”

“Yes, absolutely. I’m a simple kind of guy. No shiny shirts or lace-up crotch pants for me,” Stiles jokes.

“Okay, I suppose I’ve tormented you enough. I’ll let you get out of here.” Caitlin grabs the clothes hanging on the hook outside the dressing room before Stiles heads back to change.

Stiles pulls the curtain shut out of habit rather than modesty. He starts stripping out of the outfit and before he tosses the garments on the ground, Derek’s sticking his hand through the corner of the curtain to retrieve them.

“Give them here,” Derek says.

“Aw, thanks, man.” Stiles passes them through the curtain and then roots around the floor for his own cords. It takes him another minute to find his henley under the pile stuff he discarded on the bench. “Hey, do you want to get out of here and get a bite to eat. I’m starving,” he calls out to Derek.

“I could eat.” Derek’s voice is closer than Stiles expects. “Do you know what’s good around here?”

Stiles hops around trying to get his legs back in his pants. “We could Yelp something? Are you picky? You’re not a vegan werewolf, are you?”

Derek snorts. “No, why would you think that?”

“Just curious. I’m not picky either.”

“Are you a foodie?”

Stiles laughs. “No, my last meal today was Lucky Charms marshmallows and half a pound of bacon.”

“That sounds like a diabetic coma and a heart attack in one.”

“It’s salty and sweet all in one.”

“Why just the marshmallows, by the way?”

“Duh, they’re the best part,” Stiles explains as he tugs on his shirt and opens the curtain in one move. It doesn’t work as well as he’d hoped. He gets his shirt caught under his arm and over his head and he can feel that he’s tangled himself up in the curtain as well. He bumps into a warm solid mass. “Shit, sorry, Derek.”

“And here you’ve been trying to convince us you could dress yourself,” Derek admonishes Stiles while trying to free him from the confines of his twisted shirt and the curtain. 

His blunt nails graze Stiles down his obliques. Stiles shivers from the sensation. He tells himself it’s because it’s been a long time since he’s been touched so intimately. Once Stiles gets unstuck, he feels flushed all over. The back of his neck feels clammy and his stomach does a little flip. Hunger is a convenient scapegoat, because Stiles is absolutely not going to admit that he’s attracted to Derek. “Thanks.”

Caitlin hangs Stiles’ outfits in a fancy garment bag and gives him his bill. Stiles hands her his credit card and pesters her about shoes. Mainly, he just wants to be able to pick them out himself. He’s not a fashionista, but he’s got decent enough shoe collection. 

Caitlin gives him his receipt and a note about shoe options to go with his outfits. “I’m dubious about letting you pick out your own shoes.” She quirks an eyebrow at him. “Why don’t you bring options in case Erica isn’t happy,” she suggests. “Or better yet, let Derek help you.” She shoots Derek a look that Stiles can’t read.

“Are we done here?” Derek snaps impatiently.

Stiles signs the credit card slip and hands it over to Caitlin. “Sorry, I think he’s peckish. Excuse his grumpiness.”

“I’m not grumpy,” Derek mutters.

Caitlin giggles. “I know. It’s fine. Buy this werewolf some dinner, will you?” she says conspiratorially to Stiles.

“I can do that.” 

Caitlin does her funny double kiss thing again and says good bye.

“All right, Derek. You ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

Derek just looks at Stiles like he has two heads.

Stiles hooks the garment bag on his fingers and lets it hang over his shoulder. He holds the door open for Derek and they head back to Stiles’ Jeep. Derek multi-tasks on the walk over and names restaurants in the vicinity and their rating on Yelp. Together they settle on a Mexican restaurant, and Derek provides navigation once they’re in the car.

“I like your voice a lot more than the GPS on my phone,” Stiles admits. He hopes it’s appropriately complementary and not overtly flirtatious.

“Yeah, you’d think they could program the voice to say all of California’s Spanish city and street names correctly.”

Stiles chuckles. He’s maybe a little relieved that Derek didn’t pick up on his meaning. Stiles finds street parking near the restaurant and they keep up a friendly chatter until they get seated. Their waitress is pretty and tries to engage them in banter, but they’re both too hungry to keep it up. Once they’ve both ordered beers and their dinner, they delve into a deeper conversation.

“So, how’d you get roped into seeing a supernatural matchmaker,” Stiles asks Derek.

Derek is mid-chew of his chips and salsa, so it takes him a minute to respond. “How do you know I got roped into it?”

Stiles leans back and spreads his arms across the back of the booth. “I don’t know. You seem like the kind of guy who doesn’t like to be away from his own space, his pack. Can’t imagine it was your idea to put yourself through this--come down to LA and be around a bunch of people you don’t know. You have that twitchy look about you.” Stiles noticed the way Derek clenched his jaw and breathed through his mouth for much of their time at Caitlin’s studio. Erica had mentioned he was cooped up in his hotel room, and seeing Derek now, it shows.

“I am perfectly under control,” Derek deflects.

“Never said you weren’t. You just look like you want to head for the hills.”

Derek says nothing in response, just continues to eat chips and salsa.

“All right, I’ll go first. My best friend, Scott, he’s a werewolf, suggested it for me. His college roommate happens to work for Erica. I don’t know, I thought I’d give it a shot. I don’t seem to be having all that much luck at dating in Los Angeles, and I figured cable television would be only slightly more embarrassing than my current method of meeting people.”

“How do you normally meet people?” Derek’s question lacks the intonation of an actual interrogatory.

Stiles breaks out into a laugh and rakes his hands through his messy hair. “Okay, you got me there. I don’t really go out of my way to meet people. Sometimes I’ll go to bars with my buddy, and if I’m lucky I’ll spill a drink on someone and offer to buy them a new one.”

Derek’s forehead crinkles adorably in response. “How’s that working out for you?”

“Like I said, being on TV is only going to be marginally more embarrassing.” Stiles tips his head back and takes a long swig of beer. He doesn’t mean to, but he tracks the way Derek looks at his bared throat, the long line of his neck, and it sends a shiver through him. If Derek picks up on his sexual frustration, he does a good job of hiding it. 

“My sisters,” Derek starts, “it was their idea. Said it was time I started getting serious about settling down.”

“Been playing the field for a long time?” Stiles tries to sound casual.

Derek grunts. “No. It’s just been a long time since I really dated anyone seriously.”

“Like how long are we talking?”

Derek makes a face like he’s counting. “Five, six years?”

“You thought you’d just go full throttle then?”

Derek shrugs. “Sometimes it’s just easier for me to give in to my sisters.”

“I wish I knew what that’s like. I’m an only child.”

“As much as I wished I was an only child as a kid, I’m glad I’m not.”

“It’s pretty lonely,” Stiles admits.

Their waitress arrives with their food and another broad grin. Stiles looks up at her and blinks a few times and says thanks. She leaves with a nod and the pair dig into their meals. Stiles makes a mess of his shrimp tacos. He squeezes lime all over his plate and the juice runs down his forearm. He slurps it up and then remembers his napkin after he’s cleaned up the worst of it. Derek makes an exasperated sound from across the table, and suddenly Stiles is embarrassed by his table manners, or lack thereof.

“You want kids?” Derek finally asks after a long pause.

Stiles lights up. “Yeah, I really do. I come from a tiny family. Both my parents are only children and so was I. If I can, I want at least two, would be great if I found someone who wanted more. But these days not a lot of people want big families.”

Derek plays with his fork and the pile of rice on his plate. “I come from a big family. There’s my two sisters, Laura and Cora, my two older brothers who are already married with kids, and tons of cousins. Sometimes it feels like they’re coming out of the woodwork.” 

“I can’t imagine.” Stiles takes a bite of his taco and groans. It’s so good, especially on an empty stomach.

“My uncle Peter, he’s kind of this perpetual bachelor type, found out a few years ago he has a daughter with an old high school girlfriend. Malia turned up when she was sixteen.”

“Was it weird?”

“At first, yeah. Peter never grew out of one night stands, which is probably why his first marriage didn’t last, so the thought of him as any sort of parental figure is kind of a joke. But Malia is cool. She just got added into the fold. She’s like my unofficial third sister.”

“Must make dating hard. So many women in your life,” Stiles says.

Derek nods. “Yeah, it’s come up. Doesn’t help my best friend is also a girl.”

“You two have never,” Stiles raises his eyebrow suggestively, “you know--”

Derek shakes his head. “Kira and I have always been just friends. She’s dating Malia, actually.”

Stiles nods.

“We lived on the same floor of our dorm freshman year. She’s a badass kitsune,” Derek says fondly.

“Having a badass best friend is important.”

“You said yours is a werewolf?”

“True alpha, to be more precise,” Stiles brags.

Derek looks impressed. “Born or bitten?”

“Bitten by a rogue alpha back when we were in high school. It was touch and go there for while, but he mastered control pretty quickly. He would have gotten the bite probably once he turned eighteen. He had bad asthma when we were growing up.”

“That’s pretty impressive,” Derek says in between bites from his plate. “You never thought of asking him to turn you?”

“Nah. I’m fine being a fragile human.”

“He never scared you?”

“Scott? No way.” Stiles shakes his head. “Once you eat paste together in preschool, friendship is cemented.”

“Seems like you’re lucky to have each other.”

“We are. We’re both only children of single parents. Actually, they’re dating now, his mom and my dad.”

Derek sits back and takes a sip of his beer. “How’d that happen, if you don’t mind me asking.”

Stiles shrugs. “Mom passed when I was a kid. Scott’s dad split a few years later. They’ve since reconnected, but they’re not close.” Stiles shreds his napkin to keep his hands occupied. “My dad and Melissa started dating after Scott and I moved away for school. I don’t know exactly how it happened. They’re pretty cute together,” Stiles admits sheepishly.

“My parents have been together for forty years.”

“They set the bar high for relationships.” Stiles grins.

“Yeah. Too high.”

“I always wanted to get married young like my parents did. They didn’t have long enough together.” Stiles can feel the prickle of unshed tears in his eyes. He ducks his head and clears his throat. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Derek says like he understands exactly what Stiles means.

“You think this whole thing is going to work?” Stiles gestures between them with his fork.

“What? Letting a complete stranger set us up with dates on television?”

Stiles laughs. “Yeah.”

Derek raises his beer. “Here’s to hoping.”

Stiles clinks his bottle against Derek’s. They finish dinner and chat about the Bay Area. They have a lot in common, and it turns out they know people in the same circles. 

“We were too late to offer your start-up funding,” Derek says after finding out the name of Stiles’ former company.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I remember Cora presenting Laura and me with details. We had this other deal going on at the time, so we had to pass. But I remember it. I remember the headlines you guys made when you got bought by Google.”

“Yeah. I still can’t believe that happened. Sometimes I have to pinch myself.”

“So what are you doing now that you’re sitting on a cool forty mil?” Derek asks.

Stiles gives him a smug look. “It’s way less after taxes.”

Derek laughs, his eyes get all scrunched up, his shoulders shake. Once he contains himself he adds, “That’s what everyone says.”

“I’ve tuned into a fucking yupster.” Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t know, man. After my partner and I split, I was kind of a mess. I moved down to LA. I felt like I was losing it up there. Everyone was watching to see what my next move would be, and I was gutted. This thing I spent three years developing was just gone. I know it was my choice to leave. I know I took the big payout, but the business was everything I had in the world.”

Derek nods like he understands. “I see it all the time. I get it. These start-ups we invest in get massive and the developers sell, make a boatload of money, but it’s like they’re losing a limb.”

“I worry. What if that was the best idea I’m ever going to have? What if I peaked at twenty-five?” Stiles wonders.

Derek leans forward. “It feels like that, but at the end of the day it’s just work. Work won’t fill you up, no matter how successful you are. I have a few years on you, and I can tell you that money and work just aren’t enough.”

“You’re right, you’re right. I know you are. It’s what I told Erica the other day though, what good does all this money do me if I’m alone? I can travel and do anything I want, but do I want to do it alone? _No._ Do I want to do it with some random person I only have lukewarm feelings about? _No._ ” Stiles slumps in his seat.

“It’s hard though, I get it, to find the right person.” Derek gives Stiles a dark look.

Stiles knows there’s a story there, but he doesn’t want to push Derek. “Hey, do you want to get out of here? We could go for a quick hike up to Griffith Observatory?” Stiles stands to go and grabs his wallet. He tosses two crisp hundreds on the table. It’s an obscene amount to leave for their measly forty dollar tab, but it’s something he can do now and he never feels the least bit embarrassed about it. 

Derek looks down at the cash, but doesn’t say anything. “I’m only letting you buy my dinner if you let me buy you dessert later.”

“Dude, you have a sweet tooth like me?” 

“It’s a problem.” Derek lightly slaps his abs as if he’s got a gut.

“I doubt it. You look like a brick house,” Stiles says as he smacks Derek across the back.

“That’s because I have to workout so I’m not as round as an actual cheesecake.”

Stiles laughs and enjoys the mental image. “Is that your guilty pleasure?”

“Yeah, my sisters make fun of me because my favorite place is The Cheesecake Factory.”

Stiles laughs. Derek’s a multi-millionaire and his favorite restaurant is _a chain_. Stiles can see why his sisters make fun of him. “That is pretty terrible. Mine’s not even like a real dessert. I’m a candy fiend.”

“What’s your poison?”

“Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. I once ate an entire case. You know those ones kids sell for school fundraisers? Yeah, I ate an entire 24-pack case. I thought I was so smooth too, until I had to turn in the money to school and I didn’t have it. I cried and my mom just shook her head at me.”

Derek laughs all the way until they get back into the Jeep. “So what happened?”

“My dad wrote a check and I had to work off the debt by helping out at the McCalls’. Scott’s asthma was bad back then so I mowed their lawn for most of my adolescence,” Stiles says as he merges into traffic and heads toward the hills. 

“I bet you were a handful as a kid.”

“Yeah, my poor dad...”

“Do you see him often?”

“I used to see him all the time when I was still up in the Bay. I think I mentioned it before, but I’m from Beacon Hills, do you know it?” Stiles glances over at Derek

Derek grins. “Actually, my mom’s family has a house out in an unincorporated area on the edge of Beacon Hills. It’s this massive old farmhouse, out on the--”

“Out on the preserve?” Stiles finishes. “That enormous two story thing with the wrap around porch?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“All the high school kids go out to the preserve to get drunk. It’s like a rite of passage for all the delinquent youths.”

“And I bet you never went out there?”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, I _never_ tried to make wolfsbane infused vodka so that Scott and I could get drunk together.”

“Oh my god. You didn’t? You must have gotten so sick!”

“I did and I did get sick. It was one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done. I am so glad my dad didn’t catch me. He’s the sheriff, actually.”

“Wow, I bet you were a bad influence on Scott, huh,” Derek teases.

Stiles wants to kick himself for finding Derek so cute. Making wolfsbane infused vodka and eating a case of candy are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to stupid shit Stiles got into as a kid. “Let me guess, you never broke curfew, had maybe one detention your whole life.” Stiles looks at Derek to gauge his response.

Derek blushes. “Yeah, something like that. You have to remember I was the fourth kid out of five. Nothing I could do could shock my parents, not after Laura.”

“Is she the oldest?”

“Nah, she’s the middle, and the first girl. She did everything she could to get my parents attention.”

“And you were content to let her be in the spotlight.”

“Yeah, pretty much. I did my thing, played basketball, made honor roll. My parents had enough to deal with already.”

Stiles pays closer attention to the road as he winds through Griffith Park. “Did you date in high school?”

“Yeah, I had a steady girlfriend.”

Stiles drives up about half way to the Observatory and parks on the side of the road. The sun is just beginning to set. They climb out of the Jeep and begin their ascent to the top of the hill.

Stiles beings the conversation again, “I was a late bloomer. I only started dating the last few months of senior year.”

“Was it serious?”

“I wanted her to be the one.” Stiles keeps it vague, conserving his breath for the hike.

“I thought the same thing about Paige...” Derek trails off, not because he’s out of breath. It takes a lot more than a hike to wind a werewolf. He just looks lost in thought.

Stiles doesn’t press Derek, and Derek doesn’t push Stiles to talk more about Heather either. That old wound has finally healed, and it’s not hard for Stiles to open up about it. 

“I was twenty when I proposed to Heather.” Stiles feels the ache of the incline in his legs. “I knew we were growing apart and I thought getting married would fix that. She wanted to break up instead.” Stiles pushes himself a little faster. He wants to get to the top of the hill before the sun sets. “I just have this bad habit of falling hard and fast. People find it smothering.”

Derek’s breathing is even and measured. “I know what it’s like to lose yourself in relationships. I guess in theory it’s okay if you manage to fall for the right person. I wouldn’t know about that though.”

Stiles feels like his lungs are going to burst. He takes the last few feet without responding. They make it to the top and wander toward the Observatory grounds. It’s closed for the night, but the view of the city attracts people at all hours, especially sundown in June. They make their way to the Observatory deck. Stiles finds an area less populated by couples and families. He hops up onto a deep ledge and lets his feet dangle. Derek joins him.

“It’s nice up here. I feel like I can finally breathe again.” Derek leans back on his hands and closes his eyes and inhales deeply.

Stiles tries not to be mesmerized by his eyelashes or the way he looks totally blissed out. He definitely tries not to be too proud of himself for putting that look on Derek’s face by suggesting the outing.

“I haven’t wanted to be in a relationship for a long time,” Derek starts, “not since Jennifer. She was a dark druid. It took me a long time to get over her. Too long. But I’m not getting any younger, as my sisters like to remind me. I thought maybe Erica could help me so I don’t end up a forty-year-old bachelor still looking in all the wrong places like my uncle.”

Stiles nods and realizes this is the answer to the question he asked back at the restaurant, about how Derek ended up on _Millionaire Matchmaker: Supernatural Edition_. “I think we both have to trust Erica. Go into that mixer and just be the young, confident millionaires we are, right?”

Derek snorts. “Sure.”

“We’re in this together.” If anything, Stiles has at least made a friend. He sticks his fist out for a bump and Derek returns it playfully. 

They watch the view of the city as the sun meets the horizon. The city looks almost blurry, it has something to do with the way the light refracts around the freeways and buildings and dense smog. It’s beautiful in the way only a city can be. After the sun sets, Derek and Stiles walk around a little bit longer and then head toward the Jeep. They drive back down the hill and Stiles doesn’t even bother to ask, he just drives to the nearest Cheesecake Factory.

***

“I can’t believe you are doing this to me,” Derek says after their waiter delivers their order to the table.

“What, you said you love cheesecake?” Stiles gives Derek an incredulous look.

“Yeah, but I’m going to need to run like ten miles to burn this thing off,” Derek says after he swallows a mouthful of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cheesecake.

Stiles takes a giant bite and asks with his mouth full, “Wanna go in the morning?”

“Think you can you keep up?” Derek shoots him a doubtful glance. 

Stiles snorts. “Probably not.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” Derek grumbles a few beats later.

Stiles has gotten better over the evening at learning all of Derek’s faces and the sounds he makes. That grumble was downright affectionate. “Make it eight and I’ll buy you breakfast afterward.” Stiles beams and tries to hide it behind his coffeecup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is from Paula Abdul's classic [Rush Rush.](http://youtu.be/yqyIaNWP0T0) The story in the music video is a take on _A Rebel Without a Cause_ , and like the film, features Griffith Observatory. I listened to the [Sexton Blake cover](http://youtu.be/URYbdgns5yM) a lot while writing.
> 
> And I should probably say that the title of the story is from Broken Bells' [The Remains of Rock & Roll.](http://youtu.be/DxsceTbeRyY)


	3. girl, you better try to have fun no matter what you do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erica holds a casting call for potential dates for Derek and Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry posting got behind. I was sick for the last week and unable to get to a computer.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's reading! Happy New Year!

Erica sits perched up high on her chair and waits for the cameras to begin rolling. They have a long evening of shooting ahead of them. The scene begins with Isaac sending in a parade of glamazons for her to pick through for her millionaires. She’s in a better mood than usual. Both Derek and Stiles have proven to be sweethearts, which is a rarity for her club. She’s a little biased, but she thinks Derek and Stiles are total babes and she’ll have no problem setting them up with ‘perfect tens.’

Isaac leads in a group of four women and hands Erica and Boyd their applications. They have head shots and a sheet of biographical information attached to speed up the process. They go through a few rounds of Erica dismissing every woman. Some are too mousy, others are too done up. Neither type are right for Stiles or Derek. Some lack higher education, which neither claimed as a necessity in a mate, but given their professions, Erica is reluctant to set either up with women who have less than a bachelor’s degree. 

“What am I paying you two for? Bring me some better women or you’re out of here. I’m serious!” Erica says for the cameras. Erica is known for her dramatic outbursts, and since her clients this week are agreeable, she knows she has to create drama where she can. She knows Boyd and Isaac have stacked their best candidates in the last half of the casting segment for that very reason. 

In the fourth round, a gorgeous woman with a long, thin scar on her face walks in and Erica can’t keep her eyes off of her. She’s poised like a beauty queen, but she’s dressed in tight black pants, a lacy tank with a leather jacket and leather boots. The look shouldn’t work, but the mixture of hard and soft is appealing. Erica all but ignores the first three women in the round and lets her assistants talk to them. Erica studies Braeden’s bio and when it’s her turn, Erica plunges into the conversation.

“Braeden, it says here you’re a private investigator?”

Braeden fixes Erica with predatory smile. “I am.”

“What does that entail exactly?”

“A little bit of this, a little bit of that. I find people and information for a price.” She flips her hair over her shoulder and reveals more scars on her neck.

“Claw marks?” Erica tips her chin up.

“Occupational hazard of finding humans and supernaturals who don’t want to be found.”

“You sound like a risk taker.” Erica turns toward Boyd and Isaac and gives them a look. “Could be common ground with Derek?”

Isaac leans in and whispers to Erica, “PIs aren’t known for being paragons of virtue. Can we trust her with a millionaire?”

Erica grins at Braeden and sizes her up. “You’re not a gold digger are you, Braeden?”

Braeden smirks. “Girl’s gotta eat.”

Erica cackles. “I like your answer. But seriously, I can’t bring you to a mixer if you’re rich husband hunting.”

“I’ve got my own money, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Does PI work pay well?” Boyd asks.

“Well enough to fund my addiction to black leather and expensive motorcycles.”

“What brings you here today? What are you looking for in a partner?” Isaac looks at Braeden with interest.

“Honestly, I’m looking for someone who can keep up with me. And I came here today because I’m in between cases and I was getting antsy. I like to stay active. I’m an up-for-anything kind of person, so why not go to a casting for _Millionaire Matchmaker_?”

Erica leans in again and whispers to her team, “She’d be perfect for Derek.” Isaac and Boyd nod their heads and give her their approval. 

“What do you think of a werewolf for a future partner?” Erica asks.

“Bring it!” Braeden jokes, “I like it a little rough.” 

Erica snorts. “Actually, I think your job is rough and tumble enough. What you need is someone gentle, a perfect mix of hard and soft.”

Braeden laughs. “Okay, that works for me too.”

“If our millionaire wanted to get serious, how would that fit in with your lifestyle, your job?” Erica presses for more information.

“I’m a nomad mostly. Home base is LA for now, but my job is portable.”

“Do you want a family?” Boyd asks. “My guy is pack-oriented and that’s important to him.”

“I don’t really have that in my life. It could be nice. I’d be down for it.” Braeden’s smile is softer this time.

“All right. We’ll be in touch if you’re selected.” Erica smiles at the four women in front of her. “Thanks so much for coming in today.”

There are other prospects in the fifth round, but in the sixth round two women walk in and command Erica’s attention. Boyd and Isaac talk to the first two quickly, and then Erica moves on to address the third woman, a tall brunette. 

“Allison, you’re absolutely gorgeous. And so classy.” She looks at Boyd and Isaac pointedly. “Take note, boys. Allison is dressed appropriately, not like she works at Hooters.”

Allison smiles and flashes her dimples. 

“Tell me what you do, Allison.” Erica doesn’t bother to look at the application Boyd handed her. Allison is beautiful and fit. She has a healthy glow and she’s wearing an outfit that accentuates her figure. She bucks the trend of the afternoon. She’s not covered in fake tan and her hair doesn't seem ridiculously long from extensions. She looks like she could be a model doing cosmetics campaigns with her flawless skin or maybe she’s an indie actress about to hit it big.

“I’m an Olympic athlete,” she says proudly.

Erica’s eyes snap up and then back down to Allison’s application. She reads from the bio, “You’re an archer.” Erica quirks an eyebrow. “Have you medaled?”

Allison grins. “Yes, I have a bronze, silver, and a gold.”

“That’s amazing.” Erica scans the sheet further and realizes that Allison has participated in the last three Olympics. “Tell me about it.”

“I’ve been an athlete my whole life. I used to do rhythmic gymnastics, figure skating, and then when I got older I narrowed my focus to archery.”

“That’s really awesome. You're so talented. And are you looking for a relationship?”

Allison nods. “Yes, I’m in college, actually. I’m quite a bit older than most of the other undergrads, but going back to school was a really big decision for me. It’s been hard to meet guys to date, but it also hasn’t been my priority. I’m graduating soon, so I thought it was time to give it a go.” She smiles.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven.”

Erica looks down at the sheet. She’s in the right age range for both Derek and Stiles. Erica looks at Isaac and she sees him smiling. She nods and encourages him to speak. 

“What are you looking for in a partner?” Isaac asks.

“I’m hoping for someone who’s serious. Being in LA is hard. I’m not from here, but I’m not really from anywhere. I grew up all around the US, traveling for my my parents’ work.”

Boyd speaks up next. “How do you feel about shifters and other supernaturals?”

“I don’t have a problem at all. My best friend is a banshee. My family is a historic hunting family.” Allison winces. “But my parents are really radical and have participated in the allied movements for equal rights.”

“So they would be okay with you dating or even marrying a supernatural or a shifter?”

“They just want me to be happy.”

Erica jots a note down. “Isaac, Boyd, do you have any other questions?”

Isaac still looks a little stunned by Allison. Erica knows how tempting it can be for Boyd and Isaac being around such gorgeous women, but one of the primary rules of the company is no dating from the club. They both shake their heads.

Erica wants to dig a little deeper. “What kind of guy are you looking for?”

Allison blushes. “Honestly, I’m looking for someone who’s genuine and kind. I’m so tired of the scene, not that I go out that much. But from what I’ve experienced, guys in LA are just looking for a pretty face. I know I can be intimidating, so any guy I date would have to be okay with a strong woman.”

Erica exchanges a glance with her team. “She could be perfect for either of them.”

“Thank you, Allison,” Erica says, moving down the line to the petite redhead. She glances at her name on the application. “Lydia. What do you do?”

“I’m a graduate student in mathematics at Cal Tech.”

Erica grins. “Impressive.” She sits back and looks the woman over. She’s beautiful, but Erica has sworn never to admit anymore redheads into her club. They’re more trouble than they’re worth.

Boyd smiles and takes over from Erica. “What are your plans after school? Do you see yourself settling down or going on the job market? The life of an academic can be transient. Our millionaires are both looking to settle down, and mostly likely stay close to Northern California.”

Lydia’s pout is perfect, not quite a smile, but not a frown either. “I’d say that I’m open to various possibilities. I could get a post-doc locally, or I could get a tenure-track job on the East Coast. I could meet the love of my life tomorrow. I don’t know.”

Isaac grins. “What are you looking for in a partner?”

Lydia cocks her head. “I need someone who isn’t easily intimidated. Like Allison said, it’s hard dating in LA when all guys want is a pretty face. I’m that, but I’m a lot more, too.”

Allison giggles.

Erica looks at the two of them, clearly they’ve risen to the top for this casting session and Erica would bet money that her millionaires would pick them for dates in a heartbeat. “Are you the banshee best friend?”

“The one and only.”

Allison explains, “Lydia and I met back in our Junior Olympic days.” 

“We both did figure skating,” Lydia adds.

“And you stayed in touch all this time?” Erica asks.

“Not exactly. We found each other through Facebook a few years back, and then I moved here for school. We try to get together and do stuff, but we’re both busy. I thought it could be fun if we both came to the casting,” Allison explains.

“She dragged me.” Lydia rolls her eyes.

Erica sighs. She can scent Lydia’s irritation and boredom. If Erica were to guess, she’d bet that Lydia walks around all the time with an air of superiority. “Did you have someplace better to be?” 

Lydia lifts a perfectly arched brow. “Yes, I have a chapter of my dissertation to revise.”

Boyd cuts in to defuse the tension, “What do you like to do for fun? Both of our millionaires enjoy being active.”

Lydia scoffs. “I like to hike.”

Erica gives Lydia another once-over. She’s petite yet curvy, but she lacks the defined physique of her friend Allison. “Where, to the mall?” Erica teases.

Allison cracks a conspiratorial grin. 

“If you must know, I like to go to Runyon Canyon with my dog, Prada.”

“Look, I’m going to be honest with you, you’re not what I’m looking for for either of my millionaires.” Erica feels protective of Derek and Stiles already.

Lydia cocks her head. “Why, are they looking for a bimbo to be their arm candy?”

Erica tuts. “My millionaires are two _extremely successful, smart, and hot men_. They don’t need my help getting arm candy. I’m only looking for serious women with whom they can build a future. I just don’t see you being a good match for either. You gave an evasive answer about where you’re at emotionally, and everything about you screams that you think you’re too good for this club.”

“Well, I’m not used to hearing the word ‘no,’” Lydia says with a self-assured smile.

“I bet you’re not,” Erica grins and bears her teeth.

Boyd leans over to Erica and whispers into her ear, “We’d be crazy not to let her join the club, even if she isn’t perfect for Derek or Stiles. She raises the caliber of the whole database.”

Erica snorts. “Any chance you’d be willing to dye your hair?” she asks Lydia.

Lydia folds her arms across her chest and pushes her ample cleavage up. “Are you kidding me?”

“Fine. It wouldn’t change the fact that you’ve got the attitude of a redhead anyway.”

Lydia purses her lips to let them know she’s _done_ with them.

“Erica has a thing against redheads,” Isaac says apologetically.

“Sweetheart, are you afraid can’t handle the heat?” Lydia challenges.

“Oh, I can take the heat,” Erica shoots back.

Boyd starts before Lydia and Erica can continue their banter, “Ladies, thank you so much for coming. We’ll be in touch with details if you’re selected,” 

Allison, Lydia, and the other two women in the room exit. Allison shoots Erica a shy smile and reaches back to hold onto Lydia’s hand. When the door closes behind them Erica slumps down in her chair.

“Are you pleased with yourself?” Boyd asks with not so silent judgment. 

“Oh my god. I can’t.”

“She’d be perfect for the club,” Isaac reasons.

“Are you kidding me? Lydia is exactly what this club doesn’t need: an entitled, snotty readhead. Acting like she’s God’s gift--”

“She’s bisexual, too,” Isaac reads from Lydia’s application.

Erica snorts louder. “Just perfect.”

Boyd and Isaac start shuffling through all the applications of the women in their ‘yes’ pile.

Erica silently fumes and rubs her temples. She needs a cocktail, or five. She runs through the mental list of contenders for her millionaires. Allison is her top pick for Stiles because they're both wholesome, so young and accomplished. No one rises to the top for Derek. There are a handful of family-oriented career women with good looks and personality, but none of them have that extra special something that _sings_ to Erica. If Derek has a type, she’d bet money that it’s gorgeous and _dangerous_. Two women fit that description, but neither are strong potential partners. Braeden is a close match in some areas, but she wasn’t effusive about her interest in family. And as much as Erica’s loathe to admit, inviting Lydia to join the mixer could be good from a tactical standpoint. Lydia is exactly the kind of woman Erica wants Derek to avoid. Lydia isn’t the type to let Derek take the lead or set the pace; she’s incredibly ambitious, her career path is geographically unpredictable, and she’s unlikely to be looking to settle down in the near future. Erica doesn’t want to trick or test her clients, but sometimes she has to in order to shake them from their bad habits.

“Fine, Lydia can come to the mixer. But only because she’s a perfect test for Derek. He’s got a habit of picking people who are bad for him. It’s going to be a challenge for him to resist and really stick to his non-negotiables.”

Boyd and Isaac add Lydia to their ‘yes’ pile along with Braeden and continue to sort through the other applications and profiles from their database. By the end of a long evening they have narrowed the pool down to ten women each for Derek and Stiles. 

Erica recaps for the cameras, “We’ve got creative, ambitious, and active women who can hold their own with Derek and his pack of female relatives. For Stiles we have spunky ladies who are up for adventure and looking to get serious.”

After the cameras stop rolling and the crew heads out, Erica kicks off her heels and sends Isaac and Boyd home for the night. She mixes herself a gin and tonic. Gin is her drink of choice, and not just because it's a werewolf friendly liquor that can be distilled with wolfsbane. It’s refreshing after a long day of filming, and she can work herself to a buzz and still get through the stack of files on her desk. _Millionaire Matchmaker: Supernatural Edition_ may be a hokey television show on basic cable, but the business is real and Erica takes it seriously. She’s a third generation matchmaker with a legacy to uphold. She has her other non-TV clients who need to be set up or sent to various experts to figure out why they can’t find love. 

Erica rakes her red nails through her hair and curses inwardly for imposing the ‘no sex before monogamy’ rule on herself. It’s a rule she strictly enforces for her clients, and after a few too many hook-ups that left her feeling vulnerable, she decided she’d give it a try. Erica could have her pick of men or women, but she’s tired of bouncing around from one failed relationship to another. Erica isn’t really alone, she has Boyd and Isaac, but sometimes the loneliness gets to her--it makes her wolf feel unsettled. She’s ready for a deeper commitment, but that would mean putting herself out there, it would mean having to find time to make her own love life a priority.

The closest Erica has come to getting any action in the last six months was her verbal sparring match with Lydia. Lydia doesn’t come close to meeting Erica’s own three non-negotiables, and she’s not about to break her own damn rules about dating from the club. Erica needs someone who’ll be there for her, someone steadfast, who can handle her on her worst days. She needs someone compassionate and tender, who will understand her insecurities, and never make fun of her for all that she does to cover them up. Erica needs someone who won’t stifle her, who will let her have space when she needs it, but will never stray far. The impression Lydia left is that she’s emotionally unavailable, attractive and brilliant and completely aware of both, and extremely driven. Unfortunately, Erica’s string of exes indicate that Lydia is _absolutely_ Erica’s type. The bottom line is that Erica needs to keep her guard up around Lydia.

Erica rolls her shoulders a few times and shakes off her negative thoughts. She’s a goddamn professional and she can put her personal feelings aside and make it work. Derek and Stiles deserve the best possible experience in her club and she’s determined to give it to them.  
Erica’s phone starts blowing up around ten. There’s a text from Isaac pleading her to join him and Boyd at the bar they frequent. 

**Isaac:** Pleeeeeeeease come for a drink! Cute bartender is here! SOS 

Followed by a bunch of emojis that make Erica giggle. Isaac’s been crushing on the new bartender for the last month and Boyd is a terrible wingman.

 **Boyd:** I’ll detail your Benz if you come out with us. 

Erica laughs and finishes off her drink. She’ll let Boyd squirm for a bit, and Isaac’s adorable the more nervous he gets around his crush. She reapplies her lipstick and slips her shoes back on to her bare feet. Her job as a matchmaker is never done, but hanging out with her two boys is her favorite kind of work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is from Sinéad O'Connor's classic [Nothing Compares 2 U](http://youtu.be/iUiTQvT0W_0). I was really digging the [Capital Cities cover](http://youtu.be/2vKMU1cWSlw) while writing.


	4. somebody said you got a new friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek realizes he's in way over his head with Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is quite a bit longer than the previous one. Hunker down for a bit and enjoy Derek pining!

Derek gets home from hanging out with Stiles after ten, and for the first time all week he feels energized, like all his senses are alive. He doesn’t like being in LA alone, but he’d been adamant with his sisters that he didn’t need a chaperone for the trip. The hotel room is clean and passes the test of a werewolf’s nose. Derek’s skin feels dusty from hiking up the trail to Griffith Observatory, and there’s a lingering hint of oak and grass. His mouth tastes like coffee and the peanut butter cheesecake he shared with Stiles. If Derek concentrates enough he can pick up the just-showered scent of Stiles’ skin and it sends shivers down his spine. 

Derek decides on a quick shower before bed. He lets the day replay in his head like a movie. He’d been apprehensive about meeting Stiles, but Erica hadn’t given him much of a choice. When Stiles said he had to make a trip to a stylist and then pulled up in his old blue Jeep, Derek had made a snap judgment. He thought Stiles was an image obsessed millionaire hipster. He expected Stiles’ license plate frame to say something like ‘my other car is a fixie.’ But spending the day with Stiles had proven that he was just a guy with very little pretension. He may be a millionaire, but he hadn’t let it get to his head and he wasn’t looking for a trophy wife. He still drove the same car he had in high school, kept the same best friend, and was looking for the same thing he always wanted in a partner--a meaningful connection. Derek can’t suppress the myriad of other images that come to mind, like the way Stiles filled out a pair of skinny jeans, and definitely not his pert nipples in those tight shirts Caitlin picked out for him. 

Once he climbs into bed, Derek finds himself palming his dick through his briefs. Derek convinces himself that jerking off is the practical thing to do. He has a big day ahead of him. He’s going running with Stiles in the morning, and then the mixer is in the early evening. He needs to be focused and calm. Derek kicks off the duvet and sheets, pushes down his briefs and lets the cool air hit his body. Every nerve ending feels like it’s on fire, and his dick is already half hard. He doesn’t want to draw it out. Getting off right now has nothing to do with fantasy, it’s just tension that needs to find release. He pulls his foreskin back so he can trace the tip of the head with the pads of his fingers. He tries to keep his mind clear of anything too specific as he jacks off. He lasts exactly three strokes before his mind zeroes in on the bare skin Derek saw through the slit in the curtains, Stiles bent over trying to find his briefs, his forearm braced against the mirror. Stiles’ pale back is dotted with dark beauty marks, and his ass looked firm. Derek tries not to imagine how it would feel in his palms. Derek is powerless to the sounds Stiles made at dinner, licking and sucking the lime juice from his long fingers. He is absolutely not responsible for remembering in great detail the way Stiles threw his head back, the column of his throat to the peak of clavicle extending to his broad shoulders. Derek comes suddenly and without warning. His abdominal muscles spasm and his thighs quake. He can feel it all the way down to his toes. Thick, white ropes of come coat his hand and stomach. Derek is just lucid enough afterward to wipe up the worst of the mess with his underwear before he drifts off to sleep. 

When Derek wakes at six the next morning he feels refreshed. There’s no hint of anxiety or stress that had been building for days while he waited for the mixer. He stretches and threads his fingers behind his head. He yawns and lets himself enjoy a few lazy minutes in bed. Derek’s hard like he is every morning. He reaches down to touch himself and the memory of the night before comes back to him. He wasn’t embarrassed then, just satiated, but in the morning everything seems a thousand times worse. Derek jerked off to thoughts of his new friend, and fellow bachelor millionaire, with whom he’s got a running date and will spend the rest of the day filming a reality dating show. Derek’s cheeks burn, but there’s nothing he can do to take back what he did. He just hopes someone at Erica’s mixer will catch his eye and take his mind off of Stiles.

Derek dresses and is ready by six thirty. He heads down to the hotel gym and hits the weights hard. When he gets bored of lifing, he pounds out reps of pushups and situps. He’s already a sweaty mess by half past seven, but it’s not worth it to shower before going on a run. He towels off and sends Stiles a text to tell him he’s on his way. Derek fights a grin when Stiles texts back with a smiley face.

Derek arrives at Stiles’ house in the hills a little past eight. He doesn’t even have to ring the doorbell, Stiles is stretching on his porch. Derek tries to ignore his long, lithe limbs by studying the exterior of Stiles’ house. Stiles waves and jogs down the driveway. He spends a few seconds checking out Derek’s car.

Stiles slides into the passenger side with a huge grin. “Dude, is this the Tesla Roadster?” 

Derek inhales Stiles’ just-showered scent a little too deeply before responding, “Yeah, I just got it upgraded before the trip down here.” 

“It’s sick looking.” Stiles reverently swipes his hand across the dash and checks out the interior.

Derek waits for him to get buckled before pulling back out onto the street. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure what Erica was going to say. Thought maybe it wouldn’t be impressive enough for her.”

“Oh man, she hasn’t even seen my Jeep yet.”

“I know she prefers it if her clients drive high end sports cars.” Derek rolls his eyes.

“Aren’t most of them notorious for breaking down? They’re not exactly made for distance.”

“Yeah, and it’s not like there’s any place in between the Bay and LA that can fix them on a long ride, so I just didn’t see the point.” 

“Do you have something fancier back in your garage at home?” Stiles fishes.

Derek blushes. “Yeah, I have an Aston Martin.”

“Of course you do,” Stiles mocks, “you’re one of _those_ guys.”

Derek laughs, because yeah, on the surface that’s the way it looks. According to Kira he’s a ‘rich, hot millionaire who collects sports cars, but also a secret nerd, and a cuddly teddy bear.’ Stiles doesn’t need to know that about him, so he just nods. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Derek heads for Runyon Canyon and lets Stiles fire away a dozen questions about the Tesla. 

“Have you thought of getting yourself a cliche sports car?” Derek asks when he finally gets a word in edgewise.

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know. Not sure what’s my style. I’m not a flashy guy. You saw the Jeep yesterday.”

“You don’t have to get anything super fancy. My first sports car was a Camaro.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I still have it, actually.”

“Aw, you’re sentimental.”

“Only about cars,” Derek lies.

“I’m not a werewolf, but I’m pretty sure that’s not true.” Stiles laughs at Derek and Derek does his level best to keep his eyes on the road. 

“It was my sister’s actually. She went to college in New York so I inherited it by default. I drove it through high school and college.” 

They make it to the Canyon quickly since it’s not far from Stiles’ place. They walk a bit to get their muscles warmed up and then Derek lets Stiles set the pace up the trail. The trail he picks has a moderate climb, but it doesn’t stop Stiles from talking to Derek. Stiles yammers on about how Erica called him at six-thirty in the morning to yell at him about getting his hair styled professionally, the four emails from Isaac he’s gotten in the last hour with an increasingly panicked tone, and his nerves in general about meeting ten attractive women on television. Derek listens but doesn’t offer much in return other than sympathetic murmurs. He tries to focus on breath control and watching out for the uneven trail because Stiles looks a bit like a colt on unsteady legs. But Stiles is distracting, and that only becomes more apparent the longer they jog up the trail. Derek hadn’t anticipated the way Stiles long legs would look in track pants or the way the thin fabric drapes across his ass.

“You with me, buddy?” Stiles asks just slightly out of breath and about a step and half in front of Derek.

Derek snaps his head up. “Yeah, just thinking…”

“You getting nervous too?”

“I wasn’t, but now that you’ve talked about all the horrible things that could go wrong, yeah.” Derek grimaces. 

“I’m sure you won’t spill your drink on yourself or any of the the girls. That’s really a Stilinski specialty.” Stiles almost sounds prouds.

“I’m worried about my tie,” Derek admits. “What if I mistake it for my cocktail napkin and use it to wipe off my chin?” Derek leaves out the word _again_. It’s way too embarrassing to admit that this has actually happened to him. Besides, if Stiles ever meets his sisters, it’ll be one of the first humiliating stories they share with him.

Stiles laughs, or rather, sort of huffs and puffs while he runs. “That’s a very specific fear.”

“It’s your fault. You’re the one that listed ten different ways you might humiliate yourself. My mind has now gone down an anxiety spiral.”

“Do not let my lack of game ruin your confidence.” 

Stiles nearly faceplants when he trips over a root. Derek’s werewolf reflexes kick in; he grabs Stiles by the shoulder and somehow they both manage to stay upright and without injury.

Stiles doubles over and pants. “Oh my God. Erica would have beat the shit out of me with her pointy little heels if I had broken my leg.” 

Derek paces while Stiles catches his breath. Derek tries really hard to look somewhere else, but his eyes are traitorous and keep going back to Stiles’ ass. 

“She would have ripped my head off if I injured your pretty face,” Stiles says as he stands back up and stretches out his arms and shoulders.

Derek takes a moment to watch. “Werewolf healing, remember?” 

Stiles jumps up and down a few times. “Right.” He signals with a tilt of his head. “Keep going?”

Derek nods and together they start jogging the rest of the way up the trail.

After a few beats Derek picks up where they left off. “What makes you think I’m confident about dating?” 

Stiles snorts. “Um, only everything about you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Derek tries not to sound irked.

“Oh, come on. The leather, the artfully crafted stubble, the sports car collection. Why do you even need Erica to help you get a date?”

Derek rolls his eyes and decides to pick up the pace. If he goes fast enough then Stiles won’t be able to carry on such an asinine conversation. Stiles either doesn’t notice or he’s more stubborn than Derek gave him credit for because he keeps up admirably.

“The point of a matchmaker isn’t to just find me date, Stiles.”

“I know that,” he huffs.

“I need help, just like you, finding someone worth my time.” Derek feels the trickle of sweat on his brow and the way his legs are protesting after his long morning workout. “Maybe you’re not the only one who wanted to get married young.”

“You better get on that. You’re no spring chicken,” Stiles jokes.

Derek gives him a dark look. “Well _now_ I’m not.”

Realization seems to dawn on Stiles “Did you, you know, try to get married? Were you engaged when you were younger?”

Derek knows he’s not going to get out of this conversation and he’d really rather not have it while panting. Derek pushes himself the last quarter mile with whatever energy he has left.

“Hey, wait up!” Stiles calls from behind. 

Derek beats Stiles to the top of the trail by several strides. They walk around in circles trying to get enough oxygen and bring their heart rates down. Derek’s supernatural stamina has him recovered in under three minutes. Stiles needs a bit longer. He tries and fails to press Derek for more information. He opens his mouth to talk and all he can do is pant and flail his hands around. Derek finds a boulder near the overlook and uses it to stretch his muscles gently. Stiles ignores stretching and just flops down on the flat part of the rock instead.

When Stiles can finally talk, he starts again, “I didn’t mean whatever stupid thing I said earlier. Blame it on the lack of oxygen.”

Derek nods.

“Seriously, I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. You seem like a decent guy. Not like the douchebags out in the clubs in LA or the yupsters in Silicon Valley who buy their trophy wives off the internet.”

Derek drops down onto the boulder and lays back. It feels strangely intimate to be this close to Stiles, but the rock is warm and it feels nice. He’s not sure what possesses him to speak but he finds he trusts Stiles. “I asked Paige when we were in high school if she would consider being with me and taking the bite,” Derek says upward, looking at the scattered clouds in an otherwise blue sky. He’s still mortified by his awkward and naive attempt at a proposal.

Stiles remains quiet for a beat or two. “I’m guessing that since you’re here, it didn’t really work out as you’d hoped.”

“She told me she loved me, but she didn’t want to be a werewolf. She wanted to go to Juilliard and play the cello, she didn’t want something so permanent that young.”

Stiles sighs next to him and Derek can feel rather than see when Stiles turns his head to look at him. “Sounds rough.”

Derek keeps watching the sky. “I was seventeen. I was raised to believe the bite is a gift.”

“The bite is a gift,” Stiles agrees.

“When she rejected the idea, I felt like she was rejecting a part of me.” Derek can still feel the weight of Stiles’ gaze on him. 

“Have you worked through that?”

Derek turns to look at Stiles. “It’s taken a long time, but I think so.”

“Erica says that everyone has bad habits they have to break if they’re going to be successful in love.”

Derek hems for a second. “After that first rejection, I never wanted to feel it again. So I never really put myself out there. I date people who show an interest in me, who don’t make me work too hard. I always know on some level they’re all wrong. I know things won’t last.”

Stiles bites his lip. “You never really get hurt if you never really feel anything, if you’re never emotionally invested.”

“Pretty much."

Stiles props his elbow up and rests his head on his hand at an angle. “Sounds like self-sabotage.” 

“Erica made me promise not to fall into the pattern again.” Derek gulps. “I feel like I’m doomed to fail.”

“All you can do is try.”

Derek shrugs. 

Stiles turns back to look at the sky and stretches his neck long, rolls his shoulders a few times. Derek has to force himself to look away and watch the clouds instead.

“Erica says I have to do a better job of sussing out what my dates want, that I have to learn to be patient and not suffocate a potential partner with too much attention or expectation.”

Derek purses his lips.

“Apparently not everyone wants to get married and have a family and do all that domestic coupley shit right away,” Stiles manages not to sound bitter, but only just.

Derek snorts.

Stiles sits up and glares back down at Derek, but it’s playful. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, you owe me breakfast.”

Stiles gets up off the rock and lends Derek a hand. He may be human, but he’s strong enough to pull Derek into a standing position. They take off down the trail at a slow meander. Stiles pesters Derek about what kind of hairstyle he should get and suggests a buzz cut just to piss off Erica. Somehow Derek offers to just go with Stiles, and then Stiles suggests that Derek come over to his place and give him advice about his footwear for the mixer. Isaac said that if Stiles screws up he’s going to get hell from Erica. Derek has no idea how he managed to get himself into this predicament. He’s supposed to be extinguishing his crush on Stiles, not fueling the flames.

Once Stiles and Derek make it back to the car, they head to Stiles’ favorite diner in Hollywood Hills West.

“It’s nothing fancy, but they have pancakes bigger than your head,” Stiles says as they take their seats.

Their waiter asks what they want to drink and Stiles orders coffee and water for the both of them.

“We just worked off dessert,” Derek grumbles.

“Oh, live a little. Don’t you have a cheat day?” Stiles peruses the menu and bites his lip again.

“Yeah, and on my cheat day I don’t workout.” Derek considers getting an egg white omelet and asking Stiles if he can just try a bite of his pancakes.

“Ooh, how decadent.”

“Well, we can’t all eat a box of Lucky Charms marshmallows, a half a pound of bacon, hog an entire basket of chips and salsa to themselves, followed by six tacos, and cheesecake in one day without looking like Augustus Gloop.”

Stiles laughs with his entire body. He opens his mouth wide and his eyebrows dance around his forehead. He’s loud and it draws the attention of half the diner. Derek sinks a little into the booth and he can feel his ears turning pink.

“Dude, you are _funny_.” 

Derek frowns and tries to stifle his own laughter.

“I’ve got your number now. Your image as a ripped, tough werewolf is shattered. You’re just a big softie who watches _Willy Wonka_ , goes outlet shopping with his female relatives, and unironically enjoys the Cheesecake Factory.” 

Derek smiles despite the fact he hates being teased. 

The waiter returns with coffee and Stiles orders a bacon and cheese omelet with potatoes, and the aptly named Golden Ticket pancakes.

Derek gives him a hopeful look. “Want to share the pancakes?” Maybe it’s okay to indulge in sweets again, he’s got a big day ahead of him. 

Stiles grins back. “Sure, it’s way too much food anyway.”

Derek nods. “Okay, the pancakes to share and I’ll have two eggs over easy with ham and potatoes,” he rattles off to the waiter.

Stiles looks proud. “So glad you didn’t get egg whites, fruit, and dry wheat toast.” He puts his hand over his heart. “It was touch and go there for a minute. Wasn’t sure we could stay friends.”

“Why, because I’m health conscious?”

“Yes! It’s very annoying! I like someone who can get down.” 

“Get down with junk food?”

“American classics. I’m a burger and curly fries three times a week kind of guy.”

Derek absolutely does not imagine ordering a milkshake and sharing a straw with Stiles over burgers and curly fries.

“Let me guess, you’re a boneless skinless chicken breast and steamed vegetables kind of guy.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Derek teases. It’s only afterward that he realizes how flirty it sounds.

Stiles clears his throat and he flushes prettily. Derek chalks it up to the well-endowed waitress who just leaned over to clean the table next to them and gave half the restaurant a show.

“So, um, tell me about your family some more. You said you hang out with your sisters a lot even when you’re not working,” Stiles changes the subject.

“Yeah, Laura’s older than me, she’s getting married later this year. Cora’s my younger sister, and she’s single. I told her that if Erica’s service works, we’ll get her a membership next.”

“Have they ever done the whole ‘sibling set-up’ with you before?”

Derek nods. “A few years ago, yes.”

“I guess it didn’t go well?”

“I think she thought I was boring.”

Stiles makes an affronted face. “What do you like to do when you’re not working?”

Derek shrugs. “I don’t know. Stuff like this, I guess. I work out, go for runs and hikes. I can usually get Cora or Malia and Kira to go with me. Laura and her fiance will cook up something for Sunday breakfast and we’ll all go to their place and eat and do the crossword puzzle.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It’s not exactly exciting. I don’t go out on the weekends really. In my early twenties I went out with Peter and my brothers before they got married and started their families, but then it just got weird after we found out about Malia. I couldn’t understand how Peter could be out at the clubs picking up women when he had a kid that was just a few years younger, who quite frankly, really needed a family.”

“I don’t think it’s boring to prioritize family and a healthy lifestyle above reckless fun,” Stiles says sincerely.

Derek takes a gulp of his coffee and nods. “What about you?”

“Me? What do I like to do?”

Derek nods.

“I don’t have a big family like you. Scott’s the closest thing I have to a brother, so I moved down here after things went sideways with my ex and I sold my half of the company. Scott’s in veterinary school. If he had more time, maybe we’d do something like travel. I’d like to do that now that I have the money. But currently I seem to have a lot of time on my hands. I spend it gaming and catching up on all the TV I missed over the past few years. Honestly, I don’t do a whole bunch,” Stiles runs his hands through his hair and looks a little embarrassed by his answer.

Derek feels sympathetic. “You’re in a transition period. You’ll figure out your next move soon.”

“I hope so. Not having to work isn’t even fun anymore.”

Derek’s seen this sort of professional slump before in their field. “Have you thought about consulting?”

Stiles sits forward in his booth. “What do you mean?” 

“We use consultants before we invest in a company. We need people like you to tell us whether a company is going to be a total gamble or a calculated risk. Laura, Cora, and I have expertise in business and investment, but none of us have a solid tech background. We’ve learned a lot over time by working with consultants who are knowledgeable and have a different skill set than us. Maybe you could look into that until you figure out what you want to do next.”

“Huh, I never thought about it.”

Derek likes being able to talk to Stiles. It’s not often that he gets to have a conversation about business and the field he’s most passionate about outside of his family. Silicon Valley is full of cut throat people who want to network with Derek for their own personal gain, but he stopped trying to make real friends years ago.

Their waiter arrives with their breakfast and the plates cover the table. “You weren’t kidding when you said the pancakes are bigger than your head,” Derek muses.

“I’d like to see the size of the spatula that flips these babies.” Stiles holds his hands about a foot apart. “Obscenely big.” 

A woman from the next table over with two small children gasps and shields their eyes. Stiles flails when he realizes the woman thinks he’s talking about something other than a pancake spatula. “We’re talking about pancakes, ma’am.” Stiles shakes his head and his cheeks turn pink. “Oh jeez. That’s not at all embarrassing,” he says under his breath.

Derek laughs silently, but he can’t contain the smile on his face.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Derek says, digging into his food.

Everything tastes so much better than the food he’s been eating at the hotel restaurant and ordering through room service. Stiles moans in between bites, and Derek decides that his company is actually perfect, even if it’s a bit distracting. Derek may be a bit of a loner, but he doesn’t like being lonely. He’s missed being around friends and family, and it’s nice to just sit in the booth with Stiles as they demolish their meals. After Derek polishes off his eggs, ham, and potatoes, he attacks the pancakes. He has a terrible sweet tooth and it’s the perfect end to the meal. 

When they’re down to just a few bites, Stiles smiles and pushes the plate toward Derek. “Finish it up. I’m good.”

Derek grins and stuffs his mouth contentedly. After he drinks the last sip of coffee he leans back in the booth and exhales loudly. “You’re going to have to roll me out of here.”

Stiles laughs and pulls out his wallet. He’s quick at picking up the tab, even the previous night at dessert he beat Derek to it.

“You ever going to let me pay?” Derek closes his eyes for a second, high on sugar and fat.

“Nah.” Stiles tosses down two crisp hundred dollar bills. “Let’s go.” Stiles tosses his napkin on the table and stands.

Derek grunts. “I was serious about needing to be rolled out of here.”

“All right, all right. Come on, Violet Beauregarde. Let’s roll you to your sports car.” Stiles catches Derek by the elbow and pulls him up and out of the booth.

Derek drives Stiles back to his place and follows him inside. Derek’s supposed to look at Stiles’ shoe options. It’s about the flimsiest excuse Caitlin could come up with to push Derek and Stiles together. Derek may have been able to fool Stiles so far into thinking his interest was purely platonic, but Caitlin had picked up on Derek’s attraction immediately. Stiles’ house looks professionally put together, but not very personal. The house doesn’t smell much like Stiles either. It’s clean, but only slightly more homey than Derek’s hotel room. 

“Did you just move in?”

Stiles drops his keys into a bowl on the coffee table. “Can you tell?”

“It smells, well, not like you.”

“That’s probably a good thing.” Stiles dips his nose into the neck of his shirt. “I smell pretty rank after that run. Sorry about that, by the way.”

Stiles slumps down into the couch and gestures for Derek to follow. Derek perches on the edge of it and watches Stiles--all loose limbs and a lazy smile. Derek isn’t bothered by Stiles’ scent. It’s concentrated now that he’s so close to him. There’s only half a cushion between them. Stiles smells like a mixture of detergent, sweat, dirt, and the black sage that grows along the canyon trails. There’s also the hint of banana and maple syrup from breakfast, and something that’s uniquely him. It would be easy for Derek to sit back and breathe it in, imagine that they’re just lazing about after their morning out, and completely forget that they’re supposed to be getting ready for their mixer.

“I swear I’m going to get up in a second.” Stiles makes no move to stand.

Derek takes it as a tacit invitation to scoot back and relax. 

“Why is my bedroom so far?” Stiles reaches out and whines.

Derek grunts.

“Why did I put away my shit? I got up this morning and thought, ‘Hey, better clean up the place or Derek will see how much of a slob you are and won’t be your friend.’” Stiles shoots him a murderous look. “And now everything is all hung up and in my closet and it’s too far and my calves hurt.”

Derek kicks him gently in the calf. “Get up.”

“Ouch.”

“That was really convincing.”

“Ugh, fine. Why do I have to show you my shoes?” Stiles gets up and shakes his legs out as he walks toward his bedroom. 

“Caitlin saw your Vans with the hole in them and was worried you’d ruin her outfit.”

Stiles’ voice sounds muffled from the bedroom. “Like she’s one to judge.” He pops back in the room with a few pairs of shoes in his hands. “For a stylist, she had really questionable taste. Did you see some of the things she had me try on?”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “Actually no, you were a big baby and you refused to come out of the dressing room.”

Stiles huffs. “You don’t even know, dude. You could see my nipples through two of the shirts, and one was like,” Stiles reaches down and pulls his shirt up over his belly button, exposing an expanse of his toned stomach and happy trail, “it was like this. Isn’t that like a girls’ crop top?”

Derek has to work really hard not to stare, but he’s only human, or a werewolf in his case. Stiles is torturing him and he has no idea. Stiles thinks he and Derek are buddies and nothing more, but the reality he can’t deny is that he’s falling fast for Stiles. Stiles is pretty much everything Derek asked Erica to find him, wrapped up in a very inconvenient package. 

Derek hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with Erica about being bisexual. It’s not something that he’s ashamed of, but it’s also not something he’s really fully explored. His few serious relationships that left him emotionally crippled were all with women, and his experience with men is limited to hook-ups. So when Derek had been filling out the profile for Erica’s matchmaking service, he’d circled ‘women’ for his ideal partner simply because it was less nerve wracking than coming out on cable TV. His family loves him dearly and are as nonjudgmental as they come, but his mother and father would have been hurt to learn about their son along with the rest of the at-home viewers.

“Derek?” Stiles squeaks as he shoves his shirt back down, a blush high on his cheeks.

“Sorry, I…” Derek stammers out and shakes his head. 

“The image was too much for you?” 

Derek knows he’s joking, but it’s too close to the truth for him.

“Yeah, well, now you understand why I don’t think I should trust her fashion advice.”

Derek opens his mouth to admit that he’s actually the one responsible for Stiles’ outfits, but decides he’s not ready for that kind of honesty. “Show me your shoe options.”

Stiles lines them up on the coffee table. “I was thinking that maybe today I’d go with these sparkling new Adidas, you know, to balance the tie out. I’m not really a dressed up kind of guy.”

Derek looks at the black and white sneakers and imagines Stiles in his black trousers, white shirt and skinny tie. It’s certainly not as dressy as Derek’s own outfit, but it suits him. “Sure, yeah. These could work.”

“You think I could get away with wearing them for my date, too?” Stiles makes a face.

Derek shakes his head. “I think if you’re going for a more casual look for your date, maybe you should pick a nicer shoe.” Derek points to a pair of black boots. 

“I was afraid you were going to pick these,” Stiles grumbles.

“What’s wrong with them?”

“Nothing.”

“Then wear them.”

“You can’t make me.”

“Just be lucky I’m not making you try on shoes with your outfits.” Derek nudges Stiles shoulder with his own. “My sisters would accept nothing less from me.”

“I draw the line at trying on clothes for you two days in a row.”

Derek feels his neck get hot.

“What about my hair?” Stiles runs his hands through his hair and it stands up even more.

Derek looks at the length and the shape. It’s longer on top than Derek’s, but Stiles is incapable of not running his fingers through his hair every five minutes. “Something shorter, more shape on top so it’s not just a spiky mess. Something that won’t require too much product since you touch it so much.”

Stiles gives Derek an interesting look that he can’t read. “There’s no way I’m going to be able to communicate that to a hair stylist.” Then he bats his stupidly long eyelashes a few times. “Come with me, Derek?”

Derek feels his chest squeeze a little tighter, but he manages to play it cool. “Fine…” he drags out the word.

“I’ll let you shower and you can come pick me up before your appointment?” Derek stands to go.

“Awesome. I have an appointment at noon. Is that enough time for you to gussy yourself up?”

Derek’s neck just gets hotter. “Yeah, should be fine.” Derek checks his watch. It’ll be cutting it close, but he can be ready in time if he doesn’t shave. He knows Erica will be disappointed, but at this point meeting his future partner at the mixer is a lost cause. Derek’s going to be hung up on Stiles for a while, at least until Stiles is in a happy relationship and too busy to hang out with Derek.

“Thanks, man. I had a good time this morning,” Stiles says as he shows Derek to the door.

“Yeah, it was.” Derek wants to say it was fun, _perfect_ , really. “It was nice to work off some of the nervous energy.”

“Totally. So we’re ready for all those ladies.”

Derek thinks he detects a hint of regret in Stiles’ voice, but decides it’s just wishful thinking on his part.

***

Derek drives back to his hotel and tries to think about Stiles finding a match at the mixer. He wants to mentally prepare himself for the inevitable. Stiles is going to find someone to love and who loves him back, maybe not at the mixer, but sometime in the very near future if Erica has anything to do with it. Stiles is a very eligible guy. He’s handsome, rich, intelligent, funny, and genuinely looking to settle down. He knows these qualities in men are hard to come by because he’s heard Laura and Cora bitching about it for years. Maybe Derek can find someone to love if he just shakes these useless feelings for Stiles.

Derek doesn’t understand why he’s like this, why he always falls hard and fast. It was the same with Paige and Jennifer. He remembers Paige looking at him like he was the most irritating guy in the entire high school, and maybe he was while dribbling a basketball loudly in the hallway outside the music room. He knew she’d never take his crap and he fell for her instantly. Jennifer stumbled upon Derek after getting the shit kicked out of him at a werewolf bar. The way she’d scolded him and then let him bleed all over the upholstery of her shitty car as she attempted to administer first aid made him want to annoy her forever. It’s really not so shocking that Derek would be completely helpless to Stiles’ charm. Even without knowing him, Stiles playfully teases Derek, calls him a softie, feeds him cheesecake and pancakes, and hasn’t been fooled for one minute by Derek’s surly exterior. 

Derek makes quick work of getting ready. He showers just long enough to relax his muscles and get clean. He’s about to turn off the water when he decides that he has enough time for a quick jerk. He needs a release before the mixer, it’s as simple as that. It’s only polite to show up relaxed and not reeking of arousal. Derek leans against the cold shower tiles and strokes his dick a few times, bringing himself to full hardness. He wants it to be quick and efficient, but he can’t stop himself from fantasizing. Derek licks his lips and imagines Stiles mouth on his. It’s hot and wet and perfect. 

Derek can’t remember the last time he kissed somebody for the sheer pleasure of it, when it hadn’t been about getting to the next part, like fucking a waitress on her break in the alley, or hand jobs in the men’s bathroom with a stranger who bought him a drink. Derek lets out a shudder and the noise echoes in the bathroom. He hates that he’s doing this alone, that the only kind of orgasm he’s had recently has been solo. He craves the kind of closeness he imagines finding with Stiles. Derek already knows the exact shade of Stiles’ pink tongue peeking out between his spit-slick lips, and that’s just after a day of knowing him. Kissing is fairly tame as far as fantasies go, but it brings him off with a gasp anyway. 

Derek breathes deeply and tries to ease his heart rate. He sags against the shower wall and washes off his own come. He uses the soap to lather up his skin again and tries to clean up any evidence that lingers for any enhanced werewolf noses. It would be bad enough if Erica and her staff could smell it on him, but even more embarrassing if there are werewolves there for him at the mixer. When he gets out of the shower he feels flushed and clammy. Derek checks the clock on the bedside table and realizes he’s going to have rush through his daily regimen if he’s going to make it downstairs in twenty minutes. It’s a blur of creams and gels before Derek’s ready to get dressed. He puts on a henley and jeans and digs out his Converse from under the bed. He gently puts his outfit for the mixer and dress shoes in a garment bag and heads down to the valet area to wait for Stiles.

Derek should be nervous about spending more time with Stiles, but he’s decided he might as well enjoy what little time they have together. In a few days Derek will head back to the Bay Area and might never see Stiles again. Even the thought feels like a lie though. Derek’s pretty sure that Stiles would at least make an attempt to say hi if he drove through on his way to Beacon Hills. And Derek can’t imagine that he won’t seek Stiles out the next time he’s at the old Hale house for Thanksgiving or Christmas. Beacon Hills is only so big, and it would be rude not to say hello to an acquaintance during the holidays.

When Stiles pulls up in his old blue Jeep Derek smiles and waves. A valet opens the door for Derek and he slides in before Stiles kills the engine. “Do you think Erica’s going to kill us both for showing up in your car?”

“Because it’s awesome and uniquely me?”

“I was going to say because the tires are caked in mud and there’s rust on the hood,” Derek teases.

“You take that back or you’re going to end up walking, mister.”

Derek chuckles. 

“All right, fine. If there’s time we can take her through the car wash.”

Stiles drives to an unassuming strip mall and parks. He looks at the address in his phone again and shrugs.

“Are you sure this is where Erica got you an appointment?” Derek wonders aloud.

“It’s what Isaac’s email said.”

“Well, let’s get this over with then.”

Stiles and Derek climb out of the Jeep and head to the hair stylists shop sandwiched between a Peet’s Coffee and a taqueria. Derek knows they just ate not long ago, but the smell of grilled meats and onions and cilantro wafting in the air is calling to him. Stiles pushes through the front door to the shop and finds a young woman sweeping up hair from the floor.

“Stiles? I’m Danielle,” the woman says as she props the broom against the corner of the wall.

“Hi, Danielle. Thanks for squeezing me in today.”

“It’s no trouble.” She grips Stiles for a handshake. She looks Derek up and down. “And you are?”

Stiles claps Derek on the back. “Werewolf millionaire, Derek.”

Derek grimaces and shakes Danielle’s hand. “I object to that description.”

“Are you Erica’s other millionaire this week?” Danielle manhandles Stiles into the chair and puts a smock over him.

“Yeah.”

“She stuck us together because Derek was going stir crazy at the hotel. Derek’s my chaperone to make sure I turn up dressed and styled respectably.”

Danielle tosses Derek a wry look. “You have ideas about how to deal with this mess?” she says while yanking off Stiles’ beanie. His hair is both flat and sticking up every which way.

Derek leans over Stiles shoulder and sort of manipulates his hair a bit to show Danielle his idea. “He touches his hair a lot, so something soft and manageable that doesn’t require a ton of product.”

“If I don’t wear a beanie, I put like a pound of gel in it and play with it all damn day,” Stiles explains.

“It needs more shape then, here and here.” Danielle points to the length on top and the back of his head as Derek rakes his hands through Stiles’ hair.

Stiles lets out a happy moan. “Magic hands.”

Derek’s wolf preens at the praise, but he forces himself to take a step back. He catches Stiles watching him in the mirror, but his face is unreadable. He looks fond and embarrassed, exactly how Derek feels, but there’s something else there too.

Danielle starts fussing with Stiles’ hair a bit more seriously. She trims with scissors and shapes with a razor blade. After a few minutes of awkward silence she clears her throat. “Hey, Derek, be a dear and go next door for me. Order me a large Mocha Freddo. There’s a five in my tip jar.” She gestures to the glass jar at the counter.

Derek looks up at Stiles in the mirror again. “Um…”

Stiles winks at Derek. _Winks._ “I’ll be fine, big guy. I’m in good hands now.”

Danielle pulls a face at both of them. “Excuse me?”

Stiles chuckles. “I just mean that you seem a lot more competent at your job than Caitlin. She kept trying to get me to wear pants with a lace up crotch or a crop top. Stuff straight out of the Kiss wardrobe collection.”

Danielle seems unimpressed.

“I’ll just go get that drink for you now,” Derek deflects. “Stiles, do you want anything from Peet’s?”

“Yeah, can you get me whatever’s the seasonal Freddo?”

Derek furrows his brow. “Seriously? Do those things even have coffee in them? They’re like milk shakes, basically.”

“They’re good!” Stiles defends his drink choice.

“Fine,” Derek grumbles as he heads next door on a drink run. Derek doesn’t like the idea of leaving Danielle alone with Stiles. The coffee shop is loud--the sound of the whirring blenders crushing ice, the high pitched screech of the milk frother, the inane chatter of the other customers--all keep Derek from being able to hear Stiles and Danielle in the next unit over. He hopes Danielle isn’t telling Stiles about Derek’s ridiculous crush. Derek’s positive he picked up her scent that screamed _smug knowing_. She caught the way Derek was looking at Stiles. He knows he’s going to have to do a better job of keeping it under wraps at the mixer. Erica and the other werewolves will be able to spot it easily if he’s not careful.

Derek gets himself an herbal iced tea along with Stiles’ and Danielle’s drinks and carts everything back in a cardboard carrier. He lets himself into Danielle’s shop and finds her laughing about something and waving her scissors around. There are locks of Stiles’ hair on the floor and already he looks a hundred times better, which is frankly unfair. 

“There he is!” Stiles looks happy to see Derek. 

Danielle takes her drink from Derek. “I see you didn’t take the five from my tip jar like I told you.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “It’s on me.”

“What a gentleman,” Danielle says as she takes a gulp of her drink.

“Gimme.” Stiles tries to get his hands out from under the hairdresser’s smock but ends up making a mess.

“Hold up! You’re getting hair all over yourself and us,” Danielle admonishes him. “Derek, help him out.”

Derek practically drops the drink carrier. He sets it down carefully on the counter and grabs Stiles’ frothy concoction and takes it to him. “Um, here.” He thrusts the drink at him.

“I kinda can’t.” Stiles flails his hands underneath the smock.

“Okay, I’ll just…” Derek gives him a nervous glance as he holds the drink up to Stiles’ lips.

Stiles slurps deeply from the straw and moans. He licks around the lid to taste the whipped cream. It’s probably the worst thing Derek has ever seen simply because he can’t take his eyes off of him and really should. He really, really should, because Danielle is giving him a knowing look.

“Enough of that.” She points Derek toward the sitting area. “Let me finish this up and I’ll have you both outta here soon.”

Derek sips on his tea and tries valiantly not to think of Stiles’ mouth around the straw. He checks his phone and there’s a sedate email from Boyd. Boyd reminds him about the call time for filming the mixer and gives Derek instructions on the best place to park. He’s glad that Boyd is his point of contact and not Isaac. Boyd seems less anxious to prove himself to Erica. He checks his texts and sees a bunch of them from his friends and family.

 **Laura:** Don’t try to be funny. Your brand of humor is best reserved for after the third date.

 **Cora:** Be cool. Keep those bunny teeth under wraps. Please ignore Malia. P.S. THE DODGERS SUCK

 **Mom:** SMILE HONEY. YOU ARE SO HANDSOME. I LOVE YOU. DINNER WHEN YOU GET BACK? DAD SAYS HI. HE DROPPED HIS PHONE IN THE SINK AGAIN. YOUR BROTHERS ARE WORRIED YOU’RE GOING TO GET A SPRAY TAN AND DEVELOP A GLUTEN ALLERGY. CORA KEEPS SHOUTING NOR CAL RULES. I HOPE YOU HAVE GOTTEN OUT TO ENJOY THE CITY. YOU KNOW HOW I WORRY. LOVE, MOM.

 **Peter:** For the love of all that is sacred, wear an open collar and skip the old man sweater. You’re not a banker or a retiree.

 **Malia:** Ask if Boyd is single!!!! Cora’s been watching reruns of Millionaire Matchmaker all week and she is OBSESSED. And you better not be going to Disneyland without us!!!!!! Oh, yeah, GOOD LUCK!!!! XD

 **Kira:** Laura and Cora have been moping all week. I don’t know why Malia thinks you’re going to Disneyland. We all miss you. Just be your charming self and you can’t go wrong. :-)

Derek smiles to himself and tries to let their love and affection sink in. He really misses his sisters, even if they do drive him crazy. Kira is better than the rest at keeping in touch via text and has been checking on him throughout the week. In a weird way, Stiles reminds him of her, the way he keeps things light and pulls Derek back from getting too far inside his head. He thinks Stiles and Kira would get along if they met, but he stops his train of thought there. He’s about to meet ten women who are excited at the prospect of dating him, the least he can do is stop thinking about Stiles _like that_.

Derek taps out a group message and includes everyone. **Thank you for your love and support. So far the experience hasn’t been too terrible. Getting nervous. Wish me luck.**

When Derek looks up Danielle is finished styling Stiles’ hair. His sideburns are still long but at least they’re trimmed, the back is a lot shorter, and the top has an actual shape. Stiles’ hair no longer resembles a porcupine. He has a classic pretty boy haircut, like he walked off the set of one of the TV shows Malia watches. Danielle wipes the hair off of his face with a brush and Stiles laughs.

“All right, you’re done,” she says as she whips off the smock.

“You’re a genius, Danielle.”

“Pfft.” Danielle waves him off. “Call me when you need a trim.” She hands him a business card.

Stiles pulls out his wallet and sets a stack of bills on her counter.

“That’s way too much, not that I don’t appreciate it.” Danielle grabs the cash and tries to hand most of it back.

“Keep it. Come on, you squeezed me in so last minute and you had to put up with this guy telling you how to do your job.” Stiles points at Derek and levels him with a mischievous grin.

Danielle laughs. “Yeah, okay. Tell all your rich friends about me then.”

“Bye,” Derek and Stiles both call out as they head out the door.

Derek and Stiles both agree on grabbing on a few tacos before the mixer. They’re short on time so they eat quickly and then head out for the club.

“Danielle was a real kick,” Stiles says as he climbs into the Jeep after lunch.

Derek grunts. “Do I even want to know?”

Stiles laughs nervously. “Probably not.” 

Stiles turns the car on and they head toward the nightclub that Erica and her team set up for the mixer. The tension seems to be running high for both of them and neither are in the mood for talking. Derek gives Stiles directions when he needs them and tells him about the Boyd-approved parking lot. They grab their garment bags from the back of the Jeep and head inside to get ready. 

“So, we’re really going to do this.” Stiles looks at Derek before they walk in the side entrance. 

Derek takes a courageous gulp. “Looks like it.”

They look at each other one last time before Stiles yanks the door open. It feels significant somehow, but it’s way too late to back out now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is from Robyn's [Dancing On My Own](http://youtu.be/CcNo07Xp8aQ). The [cover by Kings of Leon](http://youtu.be/aQ-vU28uPb0) was on repeat a lot while I wrote.
> 
> Also, if you want to eat pancakes as big as your head, try [The Griddle Cafe](http://www.thegriddlecafe.com/menu.html). But I'm warning you, you will need someone to roll you home.


	5. the luck I've had can make a good man turn bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erica watches Stiles and Derek interact with their suitors at the mixer, but what really catches her attention is the way Derek looks at Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me and your positive feedback! Happy Monday :)

Erica has a list of things to finalize before the mixer begins, but right now she has to wait for the lighting and sound crew to finish setting up downstairs. She’s getting her own hair and makeup done by a team of professionals when the side door opens and Stiles and Derek walk in together.

She takes in Stiles’ new look before she swats the makeup artist away and launches herself at her two newest clients. “Holy shit! Stiles, you look amazing!” She gives them a kiss on the cheek each and then examines Stiles’ new haircut a little closer. “Danielle really outdid herself.” From the neck up, Stiles looks like a heartthrob, and if Caitlin did her job just as well, he’s going to look like the full package once he’s dressed for the mixer. “I’m guessing my set-up was well received?” Erica looks to Derek for confirmation. 

“What?” Derek stutters and blushes.

“It looks like you two are getting on well together?” Erica prods.

Stiles tosses an arm around Derek’s shoulder. “Yeah, Derek and I are pals. You should fire Caitlin and hire Derek. Danielle you can keep.”

Erica hums. “Why’s that?” 

“Derek did a better job dressing me than Caitlin, and he even told Danielle how to do my hair.”

“Hmm, is that so?” Erica asks, giving Derek a shrewd look.

“It’s not hard to have better taste than Stiles,” Derek deadpans.

Stiles huffs indignantly, but he’s got a small smile on his face.

Erica cackles and delights in her handiwork. She knew her two millionaires would become fast friends. “All right, you two! Go get dressed and then come back here for hair and makeup.”

“Makeup? You never said anything about guyliner. Not that I’m not a fan. I mean, there’s a time and a place. But I already nixed the clubbing shirts Caitlin picked out--”

“Relax. This is just powder so you’re not shiny under the lights.” Erica points to the makeshift dressing area. “Go change.”

The guys head toward the curtained off area and Erica let’s the makeup artist put on her finishing touches. Afterward, she goes to look for Boyd and Isaac at the front of the house. They’re wrangling the women as they arrive for the mixer. Isaac is stationed at the reception desk handing out name tags, and Boyd is getting thee ladies’ microphone packs hooked up.

“How’s everything going out here,” she asks Isaac as he writes one of the women’s names in loopy cursive on black cardstock with a silver pen.

“Everyone’s just about ready. Are the guys here yet?”

“In back changing.”

“I told Stiles to bring shoe options,” Isaac informs her.

“Don’t worry. I think Derek handled it.”

“Derek?” Isaac’s voice squeaks.

“They looked chummy.”

“Chummy?” Boyd asks as he joins them.

Erica gives them a conspiratorial grin. “It’s a bromance for the ages.”

A producer flags down Erica and lets her know the crew is ready to begin filming. The next twenty minutes are a flurry of activity. She has just enough time to check on Derek and Stiles. Derek’s decked out in a navy suit jacket that’s more movie star than businessman, and he should be the picture of confidence, but he looks tense and shaky. He hovers around Stiles in the makeshift green room but refuses to sit. Stiles is sprawled out on a chair and is playing with his tie, like he’s totally used to waiting for someone to yell _lights, camera, action_ at him. And dressed like he is, Erica thinks he could have an actual future in Hollywood if he wanted one.

“Come on guys, gather round.” Erica corrals them and holds onto their hands. Derek’s is warm and Stiles’ is slightly clammy. “You both look fantastic. You’re going to do great out there. Just be yourself. You,” she points to Derek, “relax and smile. And you,” she looks at Stiles, “focus and be confident.” She squeezes their hands. “This is just the first step in finding you love. You might not meet a match today, but I think we’re moving in the right direction. Remember to dig deep when you’re getting to know someone, and really figure out if a person meets your non-negotiables.”

Boyd pokes his head through the door. “Erica, they’re ready for you.” 

“Just a second,” Erica says as she checks her lipstick with a little compact she has in her clutch. “I’m going to open the show and then a PA will usher you out. I’ll introduce you two, and then the mixer will start. It’ll be about an hour. Then we’ll come back here and have a little chat and you’ll tell me who you pick for your two mini-dates.” 

Derek and Stiles nod their heads. Erica tosses her hair over her shoulder and marches out to greet the waiting ladies, leaving her millionaires to hang back in the green room. 

Isaac and Boyd have set up on the middle of a staircase so they’re elevated above the twenty women on the nightclub dancefloor. Erica smiles as she descends the staircase and the room erupts in applause and cheers. The women look stellar all dressed to the nines. She spots the new women from the week’s recruiting session and recognizes others from her impressive database. Allison and Lydia are toward the front and are dressed impeccably again. Allison smiles demurely while Lydia looks at Erica with a calculated grin. Kali, an alpha and perennial favorite in her club, is also in the front and she seems to be eyeing up the competition. Braeden stands toward the back, but doesn’t look intimidated in the least. 

“Thank you so much for coming out today, ladies! Have I got a treat for you. But first, some reminders. We have a two drink maximum,” Erica holds up two fingers and flashes her red manicured nails, “and the same goes for the werewolf cocktails.” Erica smirks, and meets Isaac outstretched hand. She takes the proffered wolfsbane gin and tonic and raises it in the air. “Cheers!” The women raise their glasses too and smile for the cameras. “Last but not least, should you land a date with one of our bachelors today or I set you up in the future, there’s no sex…” she trails off.

“Before monogamy!” the women respond in unison.

“That’s right! Now who’s ready for introductions?”

Erica can hardly hear the clatter of footsteps behind her as the women continue to cheer. Derek and Stiles emerge from the back of the club and make their way down to the landing. Derek stands to her right and Stiles to her left. Sometimes this is her favorite bit of the show, being sandwiched in between her two millionaires. Erica smiles and hooks her arms in theirs. The ladies quiet down, but Erica can see their excitement.

“To my right is Derek, a thirty year old beta werewolf. He lives and works in the Silicon Valley as a venture capitalist. He’s very active,” Erica unhooks her arm so she can squeeze his bicep, “and he’s looking for someone who enjoys the outdoors and quiet nights in. Derek is a family man and looking for someone with the same values.” Erica grins wide and pauses for more cheering. 

When the ladies quiet down she begins again, “To my left is Stiles, a twenty-five year old human,” Erica glances at him and smirks, “spark? Spark. Stiles recently sold his app company to Google and he’s looking for someone who can keep him company as he travels and indulges in the finer things in life. He’s on the fast track to marriage and family.” The women clap and cheer and Erica eats up the energy.

Erica looks at Derek and Stiles quickly and unhooks her arms from theirs. They both look overwhelmed by the women, the lights, and the cameras on them. Erica can hear Stiles’ heart rabbiting in his chest, and Derek’s breathing is _too_ measured, like he’s consciously reminding himself to inhale and exhale. 

“Is everyone excited?” Erica riles the women up further. There’s more applause and whistling. “Come meet my millionaires!” Erica yells as she gives Derek and Stiles each a little pat on the back for reassurance and nudges them forward. 

The women wait eagerly at the bottom of the stairs as the two men walk down. Eric watches them and slinks in between Boyd and Isaac. They clink their glasses together for a toast. “Cheers, guys. You did a great job with the location, and calling up the women from the database and our casting session. I honestly couldn’t be happier,” Erica praises her team, not just for the cameras, but because they really did pull off some feats this week. “Stiles looks _amazing_ , Isaac. I’m so glad you arranged for him to visit our stylists. Caitlin really pulled through. Sometimes she’s a bit flamboyant in her choices, but whatever she did really works for Stiles.” Erica leers at him suggestively. Stiles’ outfit compliments his physique perfectly. His long legs look great in well tailored black trousers, and the crisp white short sleeved shirt highlights his attractive arms. The thin black tie is a nice choice to balance out his sporty footwear. “And I love his hair. So much better than that spiky mess he had before.”

“There are a few women down there who look like they are salivating over him,” Isaac adds proudly.

“He’s going to give Derek a run for his money.” Boyd points at Stiles and then back at Derek.

Stiles’ engaging manners captivate his female suitors. Erica notices a few women smiling widely at him and vying for his attention. “Stiles is doing an admirable job of trying to include everyone in the conversation, which is difficult in a group that size,” Erica narrates for the cameras. “I was worried his quirky personality wouldn’t work in the mixer setting, but he’s doing great. I’m almost sorry I gave you so much shit, Isaac.” She gives him a crooked grin. 

“I was sweating it, I’m not going to lie. I kept texting and emailing Stiles this week. Scott told me to knock it off. He said Stiles seemed, you know, maybe not relaxed, but not too stressed out by the appointments I made for him.”

“I’m going to take the credit for that. I had Stiles and Derek hang out, and I think it helped both of them. Derek doesn’t know anyone else in LA, and Stiles has too much free time on his hands, but at least there’s comfort in knowing someone else is going through the same thing as you,” Erica explains.

“Derek looks like he’s struggling with the attention of ten women.” Isaac nudges Boyd, who’s stoic as always.

“Maybe Erica shouldn’t be so quick to congratulate herself. I thought you said you knew just the thing to relax him,” Boyd teases.

“I told Stiles to take him for a run!” Erica smacks Boyd on the arm.

“He’s a werewolf, not a dog,” Boyd sounds exasperated.

“I know that!” Erica puts her hands on her hips and observes Derek. “He’s stiffened up and his body language seems closed off. Look at the tension in his jaw and shoulders.”

“Breathe, Derek,” Boyd commands but it’s unlikely Derek can distinguish his voice above the chatter in the room. 

“He’s not even trying to dig deep to get to know these women,” Erica says as she strains to hear him. “He’s asking where they’re from and asking how long they’ve lived in LA. Who cares! Boyd, go down there and tell him to ask questions of substance. Enough with this superficial bullcrap.” She gives him a pointed glare as Boyd moves down the stairs with a cameraman following behind.

Erica returns her attention to Stiles. He’s engaged in a conversation with Allison and it makes her heart melt. Allison is her pick for Stiles and they seem to be hitting it off. Allison looks radiant in a pink cocktail dress with her hair framing her face. Even though Lydia is supposed to be talking to Derek, she’s standing next to Allison also talking to Stiles. Erica rolls her eyes. Erica is known for her colorful language, but she already feels sorry for whoever is going to have to bleep out all her ensuing F-bombs.

“What the fuck is Lydia doing?” she looks at Isaac. “What the actual fuck? Did you or Boyd explicitly tell her she had to tone down her shitty attitude? Who does she think she is? She’s supposed to be here for Derek. How fucking rude can she be?”

Isaac shrinks a little. “She was on Boyd’s list. I’m sure Boyd told her the rules when he invited her.” He puts his hands up in defense. “Or, you know, I can go down there and tell her the rules again.” Isaac scampers down the stairs to Lydia.

Erica looks back over at Derek’s side of the room. Boyd has pulled him aside and looks like he’s giving him a pep talk, or whatever passes for one from Boyd. He claps Derek on the back and gently steers him back to the women. Derek takes a deep breath and exhales. Something must catch his eye from across the room because Erica swears she actually hears his heart stutter a little. She tries to trace the source of his delight. There, ensconced in the company of ten gorgeous women, is Stiles giving Derek a blinding smile. Erica snaps her eyes back to Derek. She would bet money that Stiles is the person responsible for Derek exhaling and actually looking almost _happy_. He’s not glaring anymore or clenching his jaw. He’s got a slight blush above the line of his gorgeous stubbled cheeks. Erica purses her lips, but she can’t fight the little giggle that escapes her mouth. 

Boyd and Isaac return a moment later, but she keeps her observation about Derek and Stiles to herself. It wouldn’t be the first time in the history of her club, or of their TV series, that the millionaires have hit it off. In the show’s first season, her millionaire Ashley fell for her millionaire Mark. They went on their two required mini-dates at the end of the mixer, but both asked to go out with each other on their master date. In Erica’s experience, it’s best if the matchmaker steps back and doesn’t push too hard. The heart wants what the heart wants, and if the feelings are mutual, then Derek and Stiles will let her know.

Derek pulls it together for the rest of the mixer. He engages with the women, even if he’s not able to include the whole group in a conversation, he’s able to give each woman a chance to talk to him. Kali gives off a vampish, desperate vibe. Erica really wants to help the alpha werewolf, but she just can’t seem to get her to relax enough to be natural. Braeden uses her time with Derek wisely. She’s flirtatious but not overly so, and she’s by far the best pick for Derek. She’s playful where he’s serious, adventurous where he’s sedate. Erica crosses her fingers that he picks her match. When Lydia resumes participating in Derek’s group, she dominates much of Derek’s attention with rapid fire questions that elicit one word responses from him and lets her shine with long winded but well informed commentary. 

“She can’t help herself, can she?” Erica sighs in frustration. “Who talks about math at a mixer!”

“My guess is a doctoral candidate in mathematics and a guy who makes a substantial living playing with numbers.” 

“Gee, thanks, Boyd,” Erica snipes.

“I think they make a cute couple,” Isaac says under his breath.

“What the fuck is she wearing anyway?” Erica complains. Lydia’s dress is cute but complicated looking. It’s got a high neck with bare shoulders, straps around her arms, and cutouts on the side. It’s the sort of dress women can appreciate, but a man just sees the complicated zippers and hooks and straps, not the way it hugs her toned waist or accentuates her creamy, freckled shoulders.

“Thankfully she doesn’t have supernatural hearing. I really don’t think she’d like you talking so much smack about her.” Boyd gives Erica a judgmental look.

“It’s my club,” Erica says in her defense. It’s childish and immature, but it doesn’t make it any less true. She knew Lydia would be trouble from the start.

Isaac shakes his head at her and his curls flop around adorably. 

“Isaac, call time and bring Derek and Stiles up here,” she commands.

Isaac pouts but does as he’s told. There’s a flurry of activity below. Derek and Stiles thank their suitors and follow Isaac back up to the landing. Erica watches them exchange a few laughs on their way.

“All right, how did it go, you two?” Erica puts her hands on her hips and has them huddle up to talk.

Derek nods grimly. “I think it wasn’t too terrible.”

Stiles cackles at him. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I ever thought you had game.”

Derek makes a face at him and Stiles just laughs harder.

“Okay, seriously. What about you, Stiles?”

Stiles tugs on his tie. “It was intense, but yeah, I think it went fine.”

“Did you like anyone in particular, Stiles?”

He nods. “I thought Allison was nice.”

Erica claps her hands and squeals. “She was my pick for you.”

“We seem to have a lot in common. I could see her fitting in with my life.”

“Excellent. What about your second pick?”

Stiles whistles low. “Can I get back to you?”

Erica looks at Isaac and says, “Sure. Take a little walk with Isaac. Get a drink of water and then come back and tell me.” Erica crosses her fingers that Stiles will confide in Isaac that he has feelings for Derek.

Stiles and Isaac head all the way up the stairs to the makeshift green room with a cameraman in tow.

“Okay, Derek, your turn. Who are you top two picks?”

Derek rubs his hands together. He looks lost. 

Erica leans over the railing to the women below. “You had a room full of beautiful people.”

Derek clenches his jaw a few times. “I mean, I...”

“Just tell me who is the first person that comes to mind.” Erica hopes that her lack of pronouns will encourage Derek to own up to his crush.

“Lydia and Braeden, I guess.”

Erica rolls her eyes and it’s really a wonder how she hasn’t strained or damaged her retinas in her line of work. “Oh my God, Derek.”

“What?” he asks guiltily.

“Of fucking course you would pick Lydia.”

“I don’t understand. Was I not supposed to?” Derek looks at Boyd.

Boyd gives Derek a reassuring clap on the back. “Nah, man. Erica’s just pissed because now she owes me and Isaac fifty bucks.”

It never works out well for Erica if she admits to a client that she put a test in the mixer. It shakes their confidence in themselves and creates distrust between the client and the matchmaker. Erica sends Boyd a grateful glance for covering for her outburst.

“Okay, go with Boyd and take a breather. We’ll do the mini-dates in just a few minutes. I have to get Stiles’ second selection,” Erica tells them.

One of the production assistants hovering in the periphery radios someone in the back of the club to bring Isaac and Stiles back down. Erica looks at her nails as she waits. She only has herself to blame, she should have insisted that Lydia not to be invited into her club. Isaac and Stiles return, Stiles with a water bottle in hand.

“All right, who’s it going to be?” Erica nudges him in the side.

“How about Lydia,” Stiles says with raised eyebrows.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Erica cannot catch a break.

“Hear me out, hear me out!” Stiles cries. “I’m not really interested in her. I figure, she’s Allison’s friend, and I know Derek picked her. It’s perfect. I can do recon. Help a buddy out.”

Erica raises an eyebrow. “So you’re just doing this for Derek?” It’s a flimsy excuse, but she doesn’t call Stiles on it.

“Well, not just for Derek. I can find out more about Allison from Lydia. You know, find out how I can surprise her for the master date.”

Erica just shakes her head and decides to go with it against her better judgment. “Okay, fine.”   
Erica signals that she’s ready to commence with the mini-dates. One of the PAs corrals Derek and Boyd back to the landing to wait with Isaac and Stiles. Erica announces who’s been selected to go on mini-dates with Derek and Stiles. There are a few women who eye Lydia suspiciously for getting selected by both millionaires, but Lydia doesn’t even look surprised, just self-assured.

Erica has Derek join Braeden in a secluded corner of the club, and sets Lydia and Stiles up along the opposite wall. She and her assistants set up in between them. Erica waits to see if Derek has any reaction to Stiles and Lydia talking or if Stiles glances at Derek more than necessary.

“What do you look so smug about?” Boyd asks.

“Nothing,” Erica says breezily.

“You think you’re being secretive, but you’re really not. Your face says something is up.”

Erica waves them off with a flick of her red fingernails. “Just a hunch. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to share.” The noise of the club has dimmed considerably and it’s easy for Erica to listen in on her millionaires’ conversations.

Stiles flat out tells Lydia that he’s not interested in her. “I’m curious about Allison, and also what you think of Derek.” 

Erica glances at Derek and knows he heard. He has a secret smile on his lips and Braeden is only talking about her hometown, certainly nothing interesting enough to garner that response.

“God, you’re so junior high,” Lydia mocks Stiles.

Stiles kind of laughs. “I already know I’m picking Allison for my master date, but Erica said I had to pick a second person.”

Lydia swats at Stiles, but Erica kind of loves him for his honesty, especially if it takes Lydia down a peg or two. Stiles had admitted he could be kind of an asshole, but up until now he’s been perfectly nice. Erica’s glad to see this side of his personality. She focuses back on Derek and Braeden for a moment.

Braeden tells Derek about her motorcycle. “It’s not just a hobby, it’s a lifestyle,” she flirts.

“Seems a little wild for me,” Derek admits sheepishly.

“Not a thrill seeker then?”

“I mean, not really. My idea of an exhilarating afternoon is probably trail running.”

“I get enough running in when I’m chasing bail jumpers.” Braeden tosses her hair back, exposing the scars on her neck and the smooth skin of her decolletage. Her classic black cocktail dress flatters her already perfect figure and gives her ample cleavage without being over the top. 

“Being a PI and a bounty hunter who chases down criminals seems pretty cool. You’ve got the motorcycle, leather, and a carry concealed permit. It’s kind of like being a modern day superhero.” Derek grins.

Braeden laughs. “Yeah, kind of. My life revolves around a different kind of risk than yours.”

“For sure. Mostly I’m the numbers guy. I do risk assessment. I’m a certified actuary.”

Erica can see little pink splotches on Derek’s cheeks and cringes for him. He’s kind of a huge dork, and Erica’s not sure how she missed that before. Despite the makings of good chemistry between Braeden and Derek, there’s a fundamental lack of common ground and that’s not good for Derek who’s really interested in something long lasting. Erica blames Derek’s video that played up the image of a bad boy with the smoking hot body, leather jacket, and sports car collection. 

Erica turns her attention back to Stiles and Lydia. Lydia seems to be grilling Stiles about Derek in exchange for information about Allison.

“You want to know something that would wow, Allison? I’ll tell you, but for a price.”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“Tell me something about Derek.”

Stiles raises his hands defensively. “Whoa, I hardly know the guy.”

Erica can hear his lie from across the room.

“Better than I do. He’s so closed off. I can’t figure him out.”

“Maybe you’re just not good at listening. I saw the way you sort of steamrolled over him, over everyone really.”

Erica wants to cheer for Stiles slipping in that zinger.

Lydia scoffs. “So _listening_ is his turn on? What am I supposed to do with that?”

Stiles sighs deeply. “Fine. He has a sweet tooth. Share dessert. It’ll be cute.”

Lydia checks her nails and flips her hair. “Allison is good at everything.”

Stiles stutters, “How’s that supposed to help me?”

“It means, don’t bother trying to be cute showing her up at pool or bowling or whatever. She’s competitive and will beat you, embarrassingly so. Stick to a simple romantic gesture.”

“Wow, that’s surprisingly helpful,” Stiles says with relief. 

Erica grins and her high hopes for Stiles and Allison return. Lydia also marginally improves in her estimation. She may be a barracuda, but she’s a good friend to Allison. She lets Isaac and Boyd hang back and has Lydia swap millionaires and signals for Allison to join Stiles. Erica already knows the outcome of the mini-dates without having to watch them, so she heads to the main part of the club. She talks to the women who weren’t so successful at the mixer and imparts some dating tips. After another twenty minutes, the couples return and they shoot the final scenes of the mixer. Erica announces that Derek has selected Lydia for his master date, and Stiles has chosen Allison. The ladies fake surprise for the cameras and clap like the good sports they are.

“Don’t worry ladies. You’re in my database now and I can’t wait to match you up with my other millionaires,” she says to close out the show. 

As soon as the cameras stop rolling, the mics are off, and the lights are down, Erica slips off her high heels and uses a cocktail napkin to blot off her lipstick. She turns toward her millionaires who also look a little deflated as their microphone packs are removed and various articles of clothing come untucked. They head back upstairs to collect their things.

“Well, how do you think it went?” Erica asks as a PA helps her remove her microphone from the back of her slinky cocktail dress.

Derek shrugs his shoulders and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I guess we’ll see after the master date,” he grunts.

Stiles runs his hands through his hair and stretches his neck and rolls his shoulders a few times. “I am exhausted. The whole thing was a blur,” Stiles says through a yawn.

“Well, rest up tonight and tomorrow we’ll deal with details about your dates.” Erica pats them on their backs as they head up the stairs. “We have to let Lydia and Allison know the plan, and the crew needs lead time to get everything set up. Coordinate with Boyd and Isaac, and be in touch with me after your dates so we can film the follow-up scenes at my office.” 

Erica watches her two millionaires as they exchange looks of their own on the way to the exit. Derek looks concerned with the way Stiles seems to be walking unsteadily on his feet. Stiles gives him a fond look and puts his arm around Derek shoulders. Erica nearly misses it, but as they walk through the door Stiles tosses Derek a set of keys.

She can hear Stiles whining, “Fine, I’ll let you drive the Jeep home, but only because I literally cannot stop yawning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter is from The Smiths' [Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want](http://youtu.be/eu4k5sTzxIw). I can totally see high school aged Derek sitting in his room in the dark listening to this on repeat.
> 
> I don't want you to wait too long for an update since this is a shorter chapter. I'm shooting for posting chapter 6 this Wednesday! <3


	6. you don't want me to be how they want me to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek unwind together after the mixer, and their evening together extends into the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features both Stiles' and Derek's points of view. It's complete and utter fluff, with a little bit of angst. Enjoy!

Stiles feels so tired, like he was a hell of a lot more active than just standing around for the last few hours in fancy dress clothes talking to some of the hottest women he’s ever seen. He feels wrung out, and all he wants to do is curl up on the couch and not get up for the next twelve hours. But he’s also starving and has no energy to even microwave his dinner. He has a vague memory of banana pancakes and eggs with Derek in the morning after their run. He also recalls ordering half a dozen carne asada tacos after getting his hair cut.

“Good call on the onions, man,” Stiles says as he tries to buckle up in the passenger’s seat of the Jeep.

“Huh?” 

“I hated you for that at the time, but yeah…” he trails off.

Derek gives him a perplexed look. 

“Erica would have killed me if I showed up with onion breath and cilantro in my teeth.”

Derek nods. “Right. I made you get lettuce. I thought you were going to punch me.”

“Lettuce is unnatural on carne asada tacos. That’s a fact.”

“Are you buckled yet?” Derek asks with one hand on the steering wheel.

Stiles can’t seem to jam the buckle in right. His hands are uncooperative and he really can’t figure out why.

“You reek of adrenaline,” Derek explains. “Your body must be coming down from the whole thing.”

“Must be why my limbs feel like jelly.”

Derek leans over. “Here, let me--”

Stiles starts to protest, “I got it,” but he likes the feeling of Derek so close. He can feel his body heat and smell Derek’s fresh, masculine scent. It’s _unfair_. Stiles has no idea how he can smell so good even after hours of standing around in a suit under bright lights. Stiles sags against the seat in frustration. He wants to nose along Derek’s jaw, his neck, and his exposed collarbone.  
“You don’t have it, Stiles. You’ve been fiddling with the damn seat belt for like five minutes.” Derek counters as he tugs the belt and buckles it into the clasp.

“I guess I was more nervous than I thought. I think my body went into fight or flight mode.”

Derek grunts as he turns back to the wheel and backs out of the parking spot. 

“In this case, I chose the fight mode,” Stiles babbles, not really sure what he’s saying but unable to keep silent. “It’s like my brain saw all those women and it was just like ‘talk talk talk.’ Keep the conversation going at all costs, you know?”

“Does your brain ever say otherwise?” 

Stiles guffaws. “Well, we can’t all be studs like you.”

Derek snorts. He maneuvers the Jeep through the garage and back onto the street. He doesn’t ask for directions, just drives them back toward Stiles’ house. Stiles feels comforted by the casual familiarity. Aside from Scott and his dad, Stiles doesn’t have anyone in his life who’d save him from driving home punch drunk. Stiles has a handful of friends in LA, but they’re really more acquaintances and friends of friends than anything else. He certainly doesn’t trust them with his life. He doesn’t even trust them enough to invite them over to his house. Derek has become a rare exception in every way. They are totally friends, sadly just friends, but _friends_ all the same.

“Wanna hang out and eat fancy pizza?” Stiles asks as he scrolls through his phone for his favorite pizza place. “I can drive you back to the hotel after I get something in my system.” Stiles’ stomach chooses that moment to growl loudly.

Derek laughs and shakes his head. “I honestly don’t know where you put it all.”

“I know, right? My metabolism is disgusting.” Stiles lifts up his shirt and pats his stomach.

Derek clears his throat. “Um, yeah, I can stay and hang.”

“Cool. What do you want on your pizza?”

“ _My_ pizza?”

“I’m going to eat a whole one. Prosciutto and arugula.” Stiles licks his lips.

“Of course you are.”

“This place has salads. I promise I won't even mock you if you order one.”  
“Well, thanks.”

“Come on, what’ll it be? I’m buying.”

“You know you don’t have to, right?” Derek gives Stiles a significant look when traffic slows.

Stiles rolls his shoulders. “It’s just pizza.”

“But you keep paying for everything.”

Stiles laughs nervously. “Yeah, I guess I’m, you know, still getting used to being a millionaire. I always feel like I should offer. I keep forgetting you’re loaded, too.”

“Do you hang out a lot with people who take advantage of you?”

Stiles ponders for a moment. There’s Scott, but he’s pretty busy with vet school, and there’s Scott’s friends. They’re all poor grad students, but they don’t seem to mind when Scott invites Stiles to tag along. Paying for dinner and drinks is really the least that Stiles can do. There’s also a handful of people Stiles’ knows from college living in the LA area, and other friends of friends that he meets up with occasionally. Now that he thinks about it, he’s probably bank rolled more than his fair share of happy hours and nights out at the bars. 

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know, taking advantage of me is probably an overstatement. But I guess I pay for people a lot now.”

Derek grumbles, “You have to be more careful, Stiles. Careful about the sort of people you hang out with. It’s fine to be generous, it’s a great quality to have, but you have to make sure people are in your life for the right reasons.”

Stiles sighs and rubs his temples. “Believe me, I know, dude.” Stiles has never been accused of having an overinflated ego. He’s under no illusions that some of these people only hang out with him because of the money. Stiles hates it, but it’s either that or be lonely. 

Derek reaches over during a red light to put his hand on Stiles’ knee. He gives him a reassuring squeeze and a smile. It’s a small, private smile that Stiles has been on the receiving end of a few times, and it’s really hard for Stiles to not read anything into it. It tugs at his heartstrings and simultaneously stirs something primal inside him. He wants to make Derek smile like that always. The light turns green and the moment is over. Derek returns his hands to the wheel and they hurtle closer to the hills. Stiles looks at his reflection in the window in a daze. No good can come of his train of thought. He absolutely cannot be falling for, no, he absolutely cannot be infatuated with Derek. Because that’s what this has to be--infatuation. Stiles has only known Derek for two days. Fuck. _This cannot be happening._

Stiles looks back at Derek and says the first thing that comes to mind, “Margherita pizza and a salad?” Derek gives him another smile and Stiles tries really hard not to be devastated by his perfectly straight white teeth, and the front two that are slightly longer than the rest. 

“Sounds good,” Derek says as they make a right turn. “Do you want to pick it up on the way?”

“Sure.” Stiles calls the restaurant and waits for it to connect. “I’d like to place an order for pick-up,” he says to the woman who greets him on the other end of the line. 

Stiles orders their food and gives Derek directions to the restaurant. It’s a proper sit-down place, but pretty much everywhere in LA does food to-go. It’s one of the only things he loves about the city. When they arrive their food isn’t quite ready so they take a seat at the bar. It’s a weeknight and the place isn’t too busy.

“Do you want a drink?” Derek asks, signaling the bartender.

“I’ll have a Roy Rogers,” Stiles says to the graying man behind the counter.

Derek gives him a look but Stiles just ducks his head.

“And I’ll have a Pellegrino.”

“ _Fancy_ Italian water.” Stiles bumps his shoulder against Derek’s.

“Coke with more sugar.” Derek bumps him back.

The bartender slides their drinks in front of them with a stack of cocktail napkins.

“And cherries,” Stiles says, plucking one of the cherries off the top before it sinks. He eats the cherry and places the stem between his lips.

Derek coughs again. “Are you, um, feeling better?”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, I’ll be even better once I eat and sleep for like twelve hours.”

“You think Erica won’t have Isaac calling you at eight in the morning?”

Stiles bangs his head against the bar. “Oh fuck. I forgot about that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Dates.” Stile turns his face to look at Derek. “Ideas?”  
Derek purses his lips. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll call Laura for ideas.”

“She the romantic type?” Stiles puts the stem in his mouth and chews on it a bit to soften it. 

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose. “She never was before. But she’s planning her wedding now and it’s like every conversation we have is about floral arrangements and wine pairings.”

“Maybe I’ll call Scott.” Stiles flips the stem around in his mouth to make a U. “He’s the real romantic, thoughtful type.” He repositions the stem with his tongue to cross the ends. 

Derek tips his head back and takes a long drink from the green bottle. Stiles looks at the edge of his stubble where it meets the smooth skin of his neck, just above the open collar of his shirt. Derek’s sporting a smoking hot look per usual. Stiles feels underdressed next to him, like a kid playing dress up. Derek’s in a dark blue suit jacket with black lapels and matching slacks and shiny black shoes. He looks sleek and sophisticated, like a millionaire that has his shit together. Stiles thinks maybe his crush is just misplaced admiration, but then he sees the way Derek’s eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones, and no, this isn’t just Stiles admiring him. Stiles wants to reach out and touch Derek, taste him, and those are dangerous thoughts to be having within such close proximity of a werewolf.

Stiles looks back at the hostess and she seems to be flagging them down. “Oh, look, food’s ready.” It’s a good opportunity for Stiles to excuse himself from the awkward pining, and possible aroused chemosignals he’s emitting. Stiles stands to pay but Derek pushes him back onto the barstool. 

“Finish your drink. I’ve got this,” Derek says, refusing to take the cash Stiles tries to hand him.

Derek retreats to the hostess’ station, and from Stiles vantage point he can see how flustered he’s making her. She’s blinded by the intensity of his full-on smile. Stiles has learned it’s like the sun, you can’t stare directly at it or else it will melt your face off. Stiles plays with the cherry stem and swirls his soda a bit while he waits. He knows high fructose corn syrup, carbonated water, and caffeine have zero nutritional benefits, but he swears he feels better than he did in the Jeep. Derek finishes up a few minutes later and returns with a bag of food. He tosses a twenty dollar bill on the bar and asks if Stiles is ready to go.

“Got it!” Stiles cries triumphantly. He pulls out the knotted cherry stem and holds it up proudly.

Derek’s jaw drops open. “You are--”

“Amazing, I know.” Stiles beams at Derek.

“I was going to go with ridiculous--”

“Ridiculously talented, you mean.”

“Uh huh, sure.” Derek nudges him toward the door with a hand on his back. 

Once they’re back in the Jeep, it’s less than ten minutes until they’re rolling into Stiles’ driveway. Stiles and Derek clamber into the house, and pile everything onto the coffee table in the living room. Stiles tells Derek to make himself at home. Stiles starts stripping out of his dress clothes on his way to his bedroom and reminds himself not to fling them on the floor. He doesn’t want Derek to think he’s a total slob. 

“I’m changing into something that doesn’t require dry cleaning. Do you want to borrow sweats or something?” Stiles calls out to Derek. 

He sets a pile of clean shirts and some sweatpants on the foot of his bed. He grabs his favorite pair of flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt and heads for the ensuite bathroom. He kicks the door closed to relieve himself, change, and rinse his face. His skin feels shiny after being under the bright, hot lights. He hears Derek rustling out there and he’s not sure what the protocol is, if he should give Derek a few more minutes of privacy or offer him the bathroom. Stiles decides on the latter. 

“I’m done in here, if you--” Stiles starts to say when he notices a half naked Derek in front of his bed. He’s turned away from him so that Stiles can see the play of muscles in his back and the wide expanse of smooth, tanned skin. There’s a triskele tattoo between his shoulder blades, and it makes Stiles’ mouth water. Derek’s slacks are low on his hips, his belt draped on the footboard. The top of his underwear peek out and the whole scene seems a lot less innocent than it really is. 

Derek slips on a Cal t-shirt and turns to face Stiles with a murderous look. “Just because I’m wearing this does not mean I don’t bleed cardinal red.”

Stiles snickers. “I’m a blue and gold boy.”

“I can see that.” Derek points to the pile of Berkeley t-shirts that Stiles so thoughtfully picked out. 

It was sort of a dick move on Stiles’ part. He knows Derek went to Stanford and wanted to see if he’s the sort of guy who cares about their schools’ rivalry. Stiles could just have easily tossed some Beacon Hills gear into the mix, but where’s the fun in that?

“Bathroom’s free if you want it,” Stiles says as he heads back to the living room.

Derek grumbles, but he comes out dressed in Stiles’ Cal sweatpants a few minutes later. Stiles wants to bash his head into the kitchen cabinets. Derek in sweatpants, Derek _in his sweatpants_. He looks so soft and cuddly, but Stiles still thinks he’s the hottest guy he’s ever seen. The shirt is a little tighter on him than on Stiles’, and the sweatpants aren’t as baggy on Derek either. The slight bulge in the crotch is unmistakable. Stiles’ brain goes offline for a minute. 

Derek doesn’t seem to pay any mind to Stiles standing awkwardly and unabashedly staring at him. He heads to the living room, leaving Stiles alone in the kitchen as his brain reboots. Derek busies himself setting the coffee table up with their food. After Stiles recovers, he brings a few bottles of water and beer over to the coffee table, and flips on the TV. Derek passes him and rustles around in the kitchen for plates and stuff.

“Any preference? Crappy sci-fi movie, crappy action movie, crappy chick flick, the Travel Channel, or a _Say Yes to the Dress_ marathon?” Stiles teases.

Derek groans as he sets the coffee table, “Anything but that show, please. I never want to hear about silk organza or silk chiffon again in my life.”

Stiles laughs. “Okay, Travel Channel.” Stiles clicks over and sees that Anthony Bourdain is on again.

Derek waits for Stiles to dig into his food, and something about that makes Stiles smile and shake his head in amusement.

“What?” Derek asks as he picks up his fork tentatively.

“Nothing, nothing. I was just noticing you have really good manners.” Stiles takes a big bite of his pizza and suddenly his own manners fail him entirely. He’s making a mess, dropping shaved parmesan and arugula onto his lap. 

“Not great manners, but I can get my food in my mouth,” Derek snarks as he spears lettuce onto his fork.

“Ha ha.” Stiles tries again and fails miserably, this time a piece of prosciutto won’t tear and it hangs from his mouth.

“You know, in Italy they serve pizza whole, not sliced up, and you eat it with a fork and knife.”

“Seriously?” Stiles asks incredulously. “But pizza is the ultimate convenience food.” 

Derek nods. “Have you been to Italy?”

“Obviously not.”

“Do you like to travel?” Derek nods at the screen, like somehow his television show selection says something about him.

“I do. I mean, I think I would. I haven’t had much opportunity to do so before. I grew up, not for lack of anything, but not exactly well off either. You know, single income family and all that. And my dad’s job keeps him pretty much tied to the area. The furthest I’d traveled before college was probably to Disneyland.”

Derek takes another big bite of salad and chews. He doesn’t say anything, just waits for Stiles to continue.

“In college I went to Rosarito with Heather for spring break. I had to get my passport and everything,” Stiles says wistfully. He remembers how exciting it was to have freedom for the first time. “And D--” he starts to say Danny and cuts himself off. It still hurts to think about him, to remember the sting of rejection coupled with the high of their success. Stiles feels too vulnerable already, and not in any mental state to talk about him casually over pizza, but he can’t help himself. “My ex, and I never really traveled together. I was so broke after college. Like truly broke. Everything I had I put into the business.” Into the relationship, he doesn’t say. “I was renting a room in someone’s house, more like a converted garage, and it was a leap of faith I took that everything would pay off with the business.”

Derek grabs a beer and opens one for himself and another for Stiles. He takes it from Derek and gives him a sad look. Derek clinks the neck of his bottle against Stiles’ bottle. “It paid off, Stiles.”

“Not really, I mean, yeah, I have millions now. But everything else…” he waves to indicate the mess that is his life.

There’s a lot Stiles doesn’t want to say, can’t, won’t--not to Derek. They’ve only known each other a few days, and he’s not ready to expose himself like that emotionally. He’s learned his lesson since Danny. No good comes of opening up that fast. Stiles hasn’t met anyone since Scott who’s been willing to stick around through thick and thin. Stiles thinks maybe Derek could be someone like that in Stiles’ life, but not so fast, not immediately. If they remain friends after they finish filming their episode, and he’s pretty sure they will, they have potential for that kind of friendship to develop.

Stiles returns to his pizza and tries to cut it up with the fork and knife he doesn’t remember grabbing from the kitchen. Derek must have brought them, and it’s yet another example of his good upbringing. He gets a perfect mouthful of crust, prosciutto, parmesan, and arugula. He moans and lets his eyes slip closed. “This is a religious experience.” When he opens his eyes he sees Derek watching him. Derek’s cheeks are a little pink and his mouth hangs half way open. “You okay?” Stiles asks.

Derek ignores him and attacks his pizza with gusto. After the moment passes, Derek points at the screen. “You could do that.”

“Host a travel show?”

“No, I mean, travel, eat, see the world. You have the means and the time now. You should do it.”

“Believe me, I want to. I just need to find a travel companion. That’s sort of the point of this whole thing,” Stiles says referring to Erica’s club.

“You could travel alone. I did that once. Took off all over South America for a month.”

“I’m not really a solo type.”

“It’s not for everyone. I guess I didn’t love it as much as I hoped. Took me a month before I begged Cora to come meet me in Chile.”

“I thought about doing one of those group things where you sign up, but that just seemed too depressing. I thought my ex and I would travel after we had the money. But we just didn’t last.” Stiles feels anxious just thinking about Danny so much in one day. 

“Maybe we could plan a trip?” Derek suggests. 

Stiles catches the look of surprise on his face, like he’s shocked he offered. Maybe he only did it out of pity, except that Derek doesn’t take it back, he just takes a second to recover and then presses forward. 

“I’ve always wanted to spend time in the British Isles. Drink whisky, go on pub crawls, see Stonehenge.”

“Seriously? You don’t have to, you know, invite me just because I’m a huge loser--”

“You’re not a loser. You’re just a little lonely. And I didn’t suggest it out of pity. I really do want to see London as more than a layover. I suggested it to the girls, but my ideas always get out-voted.”

“You hardly talk about your brothers,” Stiles segues. 

“They’re cool, but they’re just at a different place in life than I am. They’re established and have families now. They were already off at college when I was a kid. I love them, of course, but I’m just not as close to them as I am with Laura and Cora.”

“Still, you’re lucky. Even if your sisters do out-vote you.” Stiles smiles and just like that the mood changes. He’s not worried about Danny, and doesn’t think about planning his date with Allison. 

“Let’s look up the best time of year to go,” Derek says while wiping his hands on a napkin and grabbing his phone.

Stiles is quicker on the draw and already has Google doing a search on his iPad that he left on the side table. “April to October.”

“We’re right in the middle of the season. I’m sure we can find dates where we’re both free.”

“I’m pretty free 24/7. From now to,” Stiles pretends to check his watch, “pretty much whenever my next idea strikes me.”

“Well, how about the fall? We can hopefully miss high season.”

Stiles thinks about it and remembers that Scott’s got two weeks off in September before he goes back to school. He’s already promised that a week of it is Stiles’ if he wants it, and he does. He misses having his best friend around. Even though he moved to LA to be closer to him, they hardly see each other during the week. Scott has class and work all day, and he has so much studying to do that he almost never has energy for hanging out with Stiles.

“How about October?” Stiles suggests.

“Done. I’ll tell Laura when I get back.” Derek taps a message into his phone and Stiles peers over his shoulder.

“Did you just put ‘tell Laura about UK trip’ into a to-do list?”

“It’s an app.”

“You’re a nerd,” Stiles teases.

“I’m organized,” Derek defends.

“You can plan the trip then.” Stiles smiles smugly.

“What.”

“Well, there’s no way I’m going to do it to your satisfaction. We’ll end up flying standby and eating at McDonald’s if you leave it up to me.”

Derek gives him a skeptical look. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I may be exaggerating.” And Stiles is, he _loves_ researching and planning. Where he gets hung up is narrowing down options and booking things in advance. He’s the king of last minute.

“How about we break it up into tasks. I’ll take flights and hotels and transportation. You take sights, attractions, and activities. And we can plan meals together.” 

Stiles appreciates Derek’s initiative and enthusiasm, and it quells the insecurity in him that maybe Derek’s only humoring Stiles. Maybe Derek really does want to be Stiles’ friend, not because of what Stiles can do for him or buy for him. Maybe Derek really does want to travel with him, not because Stiles will be footing the bill, but because they get along and they have a good time together. Stiles has only been a millionaire for the last six months, but he’s already grown tired of questioning peoples’ interest in him and their motives. It’s a relief that Derek and Stiles are at least equals in this one area of their lives.

They finish their meal and another episode of _The Layover_ begins. Derek clears the coffee table even though Stiles insists he can do it himself. Stiles likes the ease with which Derek moves about the house, even if the house is just rented and Stiles’ hasn’t done much with it yet. They sit together trading ideas about their trip and before Stiles knows it, they have a two week itinerary loosely outlined. Around midnight he can barely keep his eyes open, and he has no idea how he’s going to drive Derek back to his hotel.

“I can call a cab,” Derek offers when he catches Stiles nodding off on the couch.

“No way, dude. Why don’t you just stay? It’s so late,” Stiles says through a yawn. 

Derek looks wiped too, and it doesn’t take much to convince him. “Fine. Is there a guest bedroom?”

Stiles makes a face. 

“What?”

“There is an extra bedroom, but it’s kind of bedless. I haven’t gotten around to outfitting it.”

“The couch is fine. Do you have an extra toothbrush?”

“That I can do.” Stiles goes to his bathroom and brushes his teeth. He finds an extra and lays it out with a spare towel. He ducks his head into the linen closet, or what would be the linen closet, and inside it he finds an old pillow and a sleeping bag. Stiles smells them and even to his human nose it smells offensively of campfire smoke and mildew. His extra sheets are in the hamper, and the only spare blanket he has is the weird faux animal fur throw draped on the back of the couch. 

Stiles spits and rinses and lets Derek know the toothbrush and towel in the bathroom are for him. Stiles rummages around his bed and tries to free the comfy blanket from the confines of the mattress. There’s little choice at this point, but Stiles can sleep with the scratchy designer duvet and throw pillows, and Derek can have his cuddly soft blanket and pillows. He hopes Derek won’t mind that they smell of him, but he’s really too tired to care. 

Derek comes out of the bathroom while Stiles ducks behind the edge of the king sized bed frame to find the edge of the blanket. “What are you doing?” he asks.

Stiles pops his head up. “Getting you a blanket.”

Derek sighs. “Let me guess, you don’t have extra bedding either.”

Stiles bites his lower lip.

“Get in,” Derek says, slipping under the covers without invitation.

Stiles balks. Sharing a bed with Derek was definitely not something he assumed was on the menu. And if he did think about being in bed with him, it was under way less platonic circumstances.

“I’m not stealing your blankets. And the duvet looks scratchy.” Derek tosses the matching pillow sham off to the side.

“It is scratchy,” Stiles agrees.

“Hit the lights.” Derek burrows into the right side of the mattress and leaves the left side free. 

Stiles wills himself to calm down, but his heart thumps traitorously in his chest. He turns the lights off and plugs his phone into the charger on his bedside table. He looks on the dresser for Derek’s and then checks back in the living room. Stiles finds it on the couch and brings it to the bedroom with him. He plugs Derek’s iPhone into his spare charger connected to the outlet by the dresser.

“Go to bed, Stiles,” Derek grumbles.

“Going. I plugged in your phone. It’s on the dresser next to your wallet.”

“Thanks.”

“Night,” Stiles says breathily as he crawls under the covers, careful not to jostle Derek. Stiles is worried for about two minutes that he won’t be able to sleep next to Derek, but the even breaths coming from half a foot away must lull him under.

* * *

Derek sleeps for a solid six hours before waking up, his body hot, too hot, unused to sleeping in clothes. He looks over and Stiles is still asleep, his face lax and his breathing calm. Derek tosses off the covers that smell like Stiles, but it’s too late, his morning wood is achingly hard. He palms himself and breathes through his nose. It’s no use, the whole room smells like Stiles, like Derek, like _them_. Somehow Derek stayed on his side of the bed and so did Stiles, but he’s not sure if he should be grateful for that or disappointed that neither of them rolled over in the middle of the night to spoon.

Derek can’t believe his boldness from the night before. What possessed him to just climb into Stiles bed without an invitation? It was late, and Derek was weak. Stiles already looked sleep soft, and Derek didn’t want the night to end. He’d had fun eating in front of the TV with Stiles. It’s stupid, but he wants to do it again. Stiles seemed genuinely surprised by Derek’s suggestion that they take a trip together, and Derek has to wonder at that. Derek’s only known him a few days, but he already feels like Stiles belongs in his life, at least as his friend. Stiles seems to have a shortage of friends, and Derek wants to be that for him, wants to be someone Stiles can trust. He feels guilty for harboring an attraction to him, but Stiles does stuff to Derek he can’t explain. It’s like Stiles can’t help the mixed signals he’s throwing at Derek, like the way Stiles watches him or looks at him with unguarded affection. Or maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing, like the way Stiles tied a cherry stem with his tongue and made blissed out faces and orgasmic sounds in front of Derek when they ate.

Derek needs to change his train of thought quickly, or else he’s going to have a real problem on his hands. He thanks the heavens that Stiles doesn’t have the ability to smell chemosignals, because if he did there would be no hiding the ones rolling off of Derek. Derek gets up for a glass of water and grabs his phone on the way to the kitchen. He vaguely remembers Stiles telling him he plugged it in to charge. He smiles at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. After a few minutes of checking his email and drinking water, his erection has gone down enough so that he’s able to take a piss. He thinks momentarily about getting dressed and calling a cab, but Derek doesn’t have anywhere to be. If he goes back to the hotel he’ll end up working out due to sheer boredom and then putz around the hotel. At least at Stiles’ house there’s Stiles.

Derek slips back into bed and tries to think about his date with Lydia. After a few minutes his mind wanders back to the trip he and Stiles are planning. He looks into rental car policies in the UK. Maybe he and Stiles can rent a vintage Aston Martin and drive for part of the trip. Then Derek starts looking up whisky tours and information about the Guinness brewery. 

An hour passes and then somehow Derek ends up asleep again. The next thing he knows he’s being swatted awake as Stiles paws at the sheets. Derek’s vaguely aware that a phone is ringing, but he’s groggy and unable to keep his eyes open. Normally he gets up as soon as he’s awake for this exact reason. He’s better off after six hours of good sleep than sleeping in, it always leaves him lethargic and disoriented.

“The phone.” Stiles struggles to sit up and locate the offending object.

“Make it stop ringing. Too loud,” Derek grumbles.

Stiles must find it because the noise stops and it’s blessedly quiet for a beat.

“Hello?” Stiles croaks.

“Hello, sunshine. I figured you for an early riser. I tried to wait for a respectable hour.”

Everything sounds like cotton in Derek’s ears, but he’s pretty sure that’s Erica’s voice he hears on the other end. 

“Mmhm. I’m up,” Stiles mumbles.

“So, what have you thought about then?” Erica’s voice is overly cheerful. “What do you want to do on your date with Lydia?”

Stiles sits up. “Lydia?” He smacks Derek in the stomach and that wakes him right up. 

“Yeah, redhead, five foot three, massive pain in my ass. Ring any bells?”

Stiles pulls the phone away from his ear and shoves it at Derek. Derek makes a face as he notices he’s holding his own black iPhone and Stiles’ white iPhone is still plugged into the charger on his nightstand. Derek ends the call with Erica without a second thought. He’s not sure how they would explain their impromptu sleepover to their matchmaker. 

“What did you do that for?” Stiles asks while rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Derek flops back against the pillows and yawns. “I don’t know. I panicked.” The phone starts ringing again. “Fuck.”

“Pick it up.” Stiles scoots out of bed and shuffles to the bathroom.

Derek tries valiantly not to smell Stiles’ arousal. He reminds himself that it’s a natural reaction in the morning. Derek looks back down at his phone and sees it’s Erica calling again. He accepts the call and rushes out an apology, “Sorry. Dropped call.”

“Oh good, I thought maybe you’d realized you’re in over your head with Lydia and were bailing.”

Derek snorts. The only thing that’s over his head is his infatuation with Stiles. 

“So, shoot. Date ideas.”

Derek totally blanks. He’s about to throw out the lame ‘dinner and a show’ idea when genius strikes him. “Griffith Observatory. We can go to the museum and then have dinner and watch the sunset.” He was so impressed with the view when Stiles took him and he’d like to actually visit the Observatory and see what it’s all about. 

Erica hems. “Well, it’s very educational.”

“Too nerdy?”

“I mean, yeah. But it’s very you. Are you cooking or hiring a caterer?”

“I’m at a hotel, so definitely using a caterer.”

“All right, I’ll have Boyd call about permits and permission to film. He’ll be in touch with you about logistics and rentals. Let him know what kind of setup you need. You’ll need a table and chairs at the very least.”

“I was thinking of keeping it simple and sitting on the grass with a blanket.”

Erica snorts. “If you think Lydia Martin is going to picnic on the grass, then I pity your limited understanding of women.”

“Bye, Erica.” Derek ends the call before she can deride him further.

Stiles pops out of the bathroom at that exact moment and wiggles his eyebrows. “So, what did you decide to do on your big date?”

Derek really can’t look at Stiles when he’s this playful. He laces his hands underneath his head and settles back down into bed. “I picked the Griffith Observatory.”

Stiles shuffles back to the bed and flops down across it so that his face is somewhere near the foot of the bed and his feet are hanging off the side. “Oh. ”

Derek realizes that maybe it’s a little weird to take Lydia to a place that Stiles took him to when they first met, but he can’t actually figure out why it feels weird aside from the crush Derek has on him. “I hope you don’t mind--” 

“It’s cool. Is Erica calling me next?”

“She didn’t say.”

“Coffee,” Stiles says through a yawn. The phone rings, but he’s ready for it this time. He turns so he’s resting on his side. “Hello.”

Derek takes that as his cue and excuses himself for the kitchen. He busies himself trying to make coffee. There’s a fancy espresso machine that he doesn’t even want to try using until he notices the automatic buttons. He pulls a mug from the cupboard and sets it under the spout and selects the cappuccino button. The machine comes to life and starts making all sorts of sounds, and in under three minutes there’s a perfect looking cappuccino ready to consume. He sets another mug down and hits the button again. He takes the finished coffee to Stiles and sets it on the bedside table for him.

Stiles covers the microphone on his phone for a second to say, “You’re a lifesaver.”

Derek has to force himself to back away, but it’s difficult because what he really wants to do is push Stiles back against the pillows and kiss the hell out of him. He looks adorable in his flannel pajama bottoms with his hair mussed from sleep. Derek goes back to the kitchen to get his own coffee and lets Stiles finish his phone call with Erica. A few minutes later he comes out to the kitchen and takes a seat at the bar. He gives Derek a grin that severely weakens his resolve to keep things platonic.

“Well, what are you doing on your date with Allison?” he asks finally. Talking about the women they’re going on dates with is the metaphorical cold shower Derek needs.

“Well, you took my best date idea so,” Stiles teases.

Derek ducks his head.

“Just joking. It’s cool. I’m going to take Allison for a cooking lesson and then we’ll eat dinner.”

Derek nods his head. “Sounds fun.”

“That’s what I was going for.”

“You came up with that on your own?” Derek thinks it sounds romantic and thoughtful and he’s lamenting that he wasn’t more clever with his pick.

“God no. I texted Scott while I was in the bathroom and he suggested it.”

Derek hates that he feels relieved by that admission.

“Erica liked the idea because she has a chef friend she can set me up with, and because we have to film today.”

“Today?”

“Yeah, turns out Allison is leaving for France on Saturday. If we don’t film today then we have to wait until she’s back from her trip at the end of the month.”

“That’s quick--”

“Yeah, I’m kinda freaking out. I’m glad I have my outfit picked and Erica and her team are pretty much arranging the date for me. But I do have to go out and get Allison flowers and rent a car,” Stiles says as he types something into his iPad. “Erica gave me the name of a florist so there’s that nearly done, too.”

“What are you going to do about your car on such short notice?”

“Well, according to Google there’s a vintage car company with concierge service for their ‘high end clientele.’ Give me a second to make a call and then I’ll drive you home. Sorry I can’t hang longer.”

Derek waves him off. 

“It kind of sucks. I wanted to have a lazy day and make you breakfast,” Stiles says as he heads to the living room.

Derek smiles at that. He can actually feel the back of his neck get hot. He tries not to read too much into it, but he _wants to_ , he wants more nights where they fall into bed together and lazy mornings. He doesn’t want to go on a date with Lydia, and he really doesn’t want Stiles going on a date with Allison. He doesn’t want to be just friends with Stiles, but he thinks it might be a little too late to admit that. 

Derek can hear Stiles making a phone call to the car service and it makes his stomach lurch. Derek had been looking at car rental companies for their trip that morning, and even though he’s still very much looking forward to it, he’s not sure how he’s going to survive. Derek shakes his head and decides it’s time to face reality for the day. He heads into the bathroom to change back into his clothes. By the time Derek is out of the bathroom and back into his blue suit and rumpled shirt, Stiles has changed into jeans and put on shoes.

“All set,” Derek says as he places the folded t-shirt and sweats on the edge of Stiles’ bed. He would never admit it, but he doesn’t really want to give them back, even if he hates Cal’s blue and gold.

Stiles takes in his appearance and his eyebrows go up. “Oh, wow. I’m suddenly feeling really underdressed to even be seen with you.” 

“Sorry, I--”

“No, you’re fine. We just look mismatched.” Stiles gestures between them. “You know what I mean, per usual.”

Derek doesn’t know what Stiles means. “Huh?”

“You know, you with your whole ‘tall, dark, smooth werewolf’ self, and me with the whole ‘skinny, pasty, flailing human’ bit.”

Derek furrows his brow. He wants to ask Stiles to elaborate. He wants to know what about Derek has ever given Stiles the impression of being ‘smooth.’ So he does. “I mean sure, tall, dark and werewolf I get. But smooth? Did you see me at all at the mixer yesterday?”

“Yeah, I did, dude. I saw the twenty hot women who couldn’t keep their eyes off of you.”

Derek crosses his arms. “And did you see me bomb with my ten? I was so awkward that Erica sent Boyd to come tell me to lighten up. _Boyd_.”

“So you were a little nervous--”

“A little nervous? Stiles, I actually forgot to breathe. Boyd had to remind me.”

Stiles chuckles. “Well, in my opinion, that just makes you all the more adorable.” Stiles claps him on the back and herds Derek to the front door. “Come on, let me buy you a walk of shame breakfast burrito. It’s the least I can do.”

There is so much wrong with what Stiles just said, but Derek can’t really bring himself to care. He knows that Stiles was just teasing when he called him adorable, and Derek knows this isn’t really a walk of shame. And if they had had sex, Derek wouldn’t be ashamed of it, and he really hopes he’d just have trouble walking. Period.

They pile into Stiles’ Jeep and head back towards Derek’s hotel. On the way, Stiles spots the florist’s shop Erica told him about and he asks if it’s okay to make a pitstop. Derek isn’t eager to get back to his empty hotel room and offers to tag along. The florist’s shop isn’t open for another thirty minutes, so they get something to eat at a little restaurant that advertises bagels and burritos conveniently located next door. Stiles orders a breakfast burrito and Derek gets a bagel sandwich. Both are enormous and about halfway through they trade. 

“Best of both worlds,” Stiles says while licking cream cheese off his fingers. 

Derek has stopped wondering if Stiles does it on purpose and has come to the conclusion that Stiles has zero situational awareness and an unfortunate lack of self-esteem. He seemed genuinely convinced that all the attention yesterday had been for Derek. Derek noticed the way Erica licked her lips when she saw Stiles, and he definitely noticed the ten women plus Lydia who were enchanted by him. Derek’s inability to breathe at the mixer had more to do with the way Stiles fondled his tie and spread his legs in the green room before the mixer started than his nerves over meeting his suitors. 

“What do you think of the burrito?” he asks.

Derek hasn’t even tasted the burrito, he’s just been staring at Stiles, and that’s pretty embarrassing. He picks it up and takes a bite. It tastes even more delicious because sharing food is the closest they’ve come to kissing. “It’s really good.”

“Are you excited about your date with Lydia?” 

“I guess,” Derek lies. Honestly, Derek could care less about his date with Lydia. It’s an obligation at this point. He’ll do it best to get through it like a gentleman, but there’s no interest there. Derek liked Braeden better, but he felt even worse leading her on knowing their relationship couldn’t go anywhere as long as Derek harbored a crush on Stiles. Lydia’s a solid choice because no one will question why their date is going to end in a fizzle. “I’m not looking forward to being back on camera, that’s for sure.”

“I’m able to tune it out for the most part.” Stiles leans back on his side of the booth and stretches. 

Derek picks up the burrito to finish it, not because he’s hungry, but because it keeps him from outright staring at Stiles. “You excited about your date with Allison?”

Stiles shrugs. Derek wonders if Stiles is just really good at not lying to a werewolf. 

They finish up their food and head back over to the florist when it’s open. The shop is run by an alpha werewolf named Ennis. He’s a big burly guy and he looks a little silly arranging delicate flowers into a nosegay, but he’s super helpful to Stiles and that’s all that matters.

“You want an arrangement for a first date for a girl you met on Erica’s show?”

Stiles nods. “I’m not sure what she likes, but her friend said she likes simple romantic gestures.”

Ennis ponders for a moment. “How about a mixed bouquet with some fragrant lilacs? I think purple is a classier choice than reds or dark pinks, which tend to symbolize passionate love.”

Stiles gives Derek a look that says he has no clue. Derek remembers that his parents have a lilac tree in their yard that they planted on their eighth anniversary.

“Do lilacs have a specific meaning?” Derek asks.

“They do. First emotions of love is a typical interpretation of lilacs,” Ennis explains.

Stiles puts his hands up. “Maybe something a little less romantic?”

Ennis looks confused. “You want to give her flowers as a romantic gesture, but you don’t want the flowers to be too romantic.”

“Friendly, yes. Thoughtful, sure. But you know, I don’t really know her all that well.” Stiles’ voice goes up a few notches.

Ennis shakes his head. “Okay, I’ll make a bouquet with sunflowers, dahlias, maybe throw in some lavender and rosemary for fragrance. I’ll keep it rustic and loose, nothing that could be misconstrued, but still sweet and thoughtful.”

“Sounds perfect,” Stiles says and looks at Derek for reassurance.

“I can have it ready for you to pick up on your way. Say 2 PM?”

“See you then!” Stiles says nudging Derek towards the front door. “Well, that was weird,” Stiles says as soon as they’re back in the Jeep.

Derek doesn’t disagree. Part of him thinks it’s wishful thinking, but Stiles has been pretty obvious that he’s not exactly excited about his date and not really feeling romantic vibes with Allison. Derek just wishes he felt more confident about Stiles feelings for him. He might be unconsciously flirting with Derek, but it’s really not enough for him to go on yet. Stiles babbles nervously for the next few minutes and Derek does his best to pay attention. The ride to the hotel is shorter than Derek would have liked.

Stiles pulls up to the front and throws the Jeep into park and lets the engine idle. “Well, I guess this is it.”

“Yeah…”

“You’ll probably have your date tomorrow or the next day, right?”

Derek honestly isn’t sure, the sooner the better so he can be put out of his misery. He just nods and gives Stiles a half grin. “Well, good luck.”

“Will I see you before you leave town?” Stiles sounds nervous, tentative. 

Derek can hear the uptick of Stiles’ heart, but he tries not to read into it. “You want to?”

“Yeah, dude. Call me or text me?”

Derek smiles and nods. “Okay.” 

He wants to reach out and touch Stiles. He settles for a fist bump. Stiles meets his fist half way and bumps his knuckles against Derek’s. It’s too fast and it’s not tender enough, but it’ll have to do. Derek climbs out of the Jeep and waves as he shuts the door. Stiles waves back and then the Jeep lurches forward, exiting the hotel entrance with a trail of exhaust. 

Derek heads through the lobby to the bank of elevators. He ignores the looks people give him in his rumpled dress clothes, returning to his hotel after ten in the morning. Derek fumbles for his phone and sees he has some texts from his sisters, Kira, and Malia. Derek lets himself into his hotel room and strips. He gets into bed intending to spend much of the day moping. He contemplates texting Kira back but that would require keeping his eyes open. He calls her instead.

She picks up on the first ring sounding breathless. “Hey, Derek. How did it go? We’re all dying here.”

“Are you with everyone?” Derek puts his hand over his eyes.

“Nah, it’s Thursday, everyone’s at work.”

Derek blows out a loud sigh.

“Was it that bad?”

“It was fine.”

Kira pauses and lets Derek talk on his own terms. That’s why they’re best friends, why Derek called her and not his sisters. If he called them they would have prodded and poked until he got pissed and growled at them. 

“There’s someone…” his voice breaks off. “But I don’t even know if he’s interested. Or if he dates guys.”

She hums sympathetically. Kira never judges. 

“It’s the other millionaire, Stiles.”

“You’ve been hanging out, right?”

“Yeah, it’s only been a couple of days. We met on Tuesday afternoon, and I’ve pretty much spent every minute with him since.”

“Were you with him last night? Is that why you did text after the mixer?”

“Yeah, we were hanging out. And I slept over at his place--”

“Did you,” Kira interrupts,“sorry, continue.” Derek can practically hear Kira biting her lip.

“We didn’t do anything. We slept fully clothed in his king sized bed.” Derek blushes.

“But you wanted something to happen?”

Derek sighs. “Yeah.”

“What’s his name again?”

“Stiles Stilinski. His first name is obviously a nickname.”

“Have you Googled him yet?”

Derek makes a face even if Kira can’t see it. “No.”

“Maybe you should.”

“I know exactly what’s going to come up. Cora actually presented his company to me and Laura a year or two ago as a possible investment opportunity. I read the dossier then, and I remember seeing his company’s name in the news everywhere after they were bought by Google.”

Kira’s silent for a moment, she sucks in a breath. “Then you know about him and his partner?”

Derek remembers he had a Hawaiian name that Cora kept butchering, but that’s about it. Derek doesn’t know the whole story, but it sounds like Stiles opted for the buyout and his partner stayed with the company. “Partnerships dissolve over money all the time. And for some reason Stiles thinks he’ll never have another idea again. He seems really down about it.”

“Well…” Kira pauses before adding, “they were more than just business partners, you know.”

Derek feels his stomach sink. “What do you mean?” 

“Stiles and Danny were in a relationship.”

“Wait, I thought his partner’s name was something like Mahel--”

“Danny Mahealani.” The name rolls off of Kira’s tongue.

Derek recalls Stiles talking about his exes, more specifically about Heather. He’d been vague about his last relationship, which Derek could relate to because he still rarely said Jen’s name out loud. Derek remembers Stiles saying ‘they’ and ‘them’ not ‘he’ or ‘she.’ “Danny with a Y not Dani with an I?” Derek asks to be sure.

“The person in this picture is very clearly a dude. Chiseled jaw, dimples, gorgeous smile, tan, and ripped,” Kira describes. “I’m sending you a link.”

Derek’s phone buzzes. He feels numb as he clicks on the link from Kira and a Safari window loads. The link is to one of the weekly newspapers in the Silicon Valley. There’s a picture of Stiles and Danny smiling with a photoshopped tear between them announcing their split from each other professionally and personally. It’s dated from around the time Google bought their company.

Derek should feel comforted by the news that Stiles dates men, but all he can think about is the fact that Stiles is getting ready to go out with Allison at this very moment. She fits a type, he supposes, if Stiles has one. She too has a striking jawline, dimples, and radiant smile just like Danny. Stiles had described her as sweet, and now that he thinks of it, Stiles said that everyone loved Danny. Maybe Stiles is drawn to the likable friendly types, and if that’s the case, then Derek doesn’t stand a chance. Derek knows he’s a good guy deep down, but he’s reserved and slow to let people into his life. But the thing that Derek can’t really believe is that with Stiles he’d been different. Stiles brought out his fun side and he felt comfortable letting his guard down. 

“Derek?” Kira interrupts his reverie. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I don’t really know what to do with this information.”

“This is good right? Stiles could be just as into you as you’re into him.”

Derek makes a noise deep in his throat.

“Oh, don’t give me that, Derek. I know your track record hasn’t been great, but you know you’re kind of a babe.”

Derek snorts.

“You’re a total catch, so stop fishing for more compliments. They’ll go straight to your head.”

Derek grins. “So what do I do? Stiles has his date today and I have mine probably tomorrow or the next day.”

Kira sighs. “I don’t know. I guess you have to think about whether or not you want to make some romantic overture soon and risk embarrassment if he’s not interested, or just wait until after you’re done filming for the episode?”

“What will I do if he doesn’t feel the same way about me? We’re becoming friends. I don’t want to make this awkward.”

“What kind of friend would he be if he let things get awkward just because he doesn’t feel the same way? And I’m not saying he doesn’t. It’s like, well, probably pretty impossible not to see how amazing you are.”

Derek lets the feelings of affection wash over him. Kira is the best friend he could have asked for. She’s not like Laura or Cora or Malia who try to rib and tease him and show their love for him in the weirdest ways. Kira is direct and open with her affection. 

“Thanks. Love you,” he manages to say without sounding weepy.

“I love you too, you big softie. Keep me posted, okay?”

“Will do.”

“And text your sisters and Malia, would you?”

“Okay.”

“ See you soon, D.”

“Bye, Kira.”

Derek disconnects and drags himself out of bed. He heads to the shower to clear his head and get ready for the day. Stiles won’t have time to talk much, so Derek might as well use the time to prepare for his own date with Lydia. He feels guilty that it’s all for show, but he’s obligated to her and Erica to see this through, and Derek is nothing if not true to his word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is from Best Coast's [How They Want Me to Be](http://youtu.be/U26ONLYk04E). I love this song so much!!! It was on repeat a lot while I wrote this fic.
> 
> Well, I aimed for Wednesday, but Thursday isn't too shabby!


	7. home, let's go home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek go on their dates, but all they can think about is each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear if you make it to the end of this chapter there'll finally be some resolution to the UST.

Stiles drops Derek off and has exactly two hours to freak out and get ready before his date with Allison. He’s not worried about how things will go with Allison--he knows they’re going to get along just fine--but he is worried about how he’s going to deal with his feelings for Derek. Waking up next to him felt amazing, even if they were like a foot apart and rudely roused from sleep by Erica calling. Derek going into the kitchen and making coffee and the way he looked in his house wearing his sweatpants gave him butterflies. Stiles knows that his feelings for Derek are a problem. He can’t go out with Allison and expect sparks to fly while his head and heart are already caught up on Derek.

Stiles goes through the motions of getting ready. He calls Scott and puts him on speakerphone while he brushes his teeth and styles his hair.

“Hey, buddy! Excited for your date?” Scott asks like an excited puppy.

“Yeah, about that…”

“What?”

“Hypothetically, what if I have something else on my mind right now, someone else…”

“Stiles, I know you’re still hung up on Danny, but you have to put yourself out there. You said it yourself, you’ve let yourself wallow enough.”

“It’s not Danny.”

“Who else could it be?” Scott wonders.

Stiles rinses and spits. He hasn’t talked to Scott much this week. Scott’s been studying for finals for his summer session classes. “There’s this guy, Derek, the other millionaire,” Stiles admits sheepishly. “And well, we’ve been hanging out a lot.”

“And you like him?”

Stiles sighs. “Yeah…”

“A lot?” Stiles can hear the grin in Scott’s voice.

“It’s so stupid, Scott. As far as I know, he’s straight. I mean, he asked for women for the mixer.”

“I mean, I hate to state the obvious, but you asked for all women too. And you’re bi.”

“I know, but Derek never mentioned any guys from his past. And we talked about that kind of stuff, you know.”

“Stiles, I’m... I’m sorry, man. That sucks.”

“Yeah. And what sucks worse is he so fucking cool, but also like a giant dork. We get along so well. We’re even talking about planning a trip together.”

“Whoa--”

“I know, it sounds crazy right? We just sort of click.”

“It sounds like maybe, I don’t know, maybe the feelings aren’t so one-sided?”

“Scott, I love you and your optimism.”

“Come on, Stiles. I’m serious. Derek’s a werewolf, right?”

“Yeah, a beta.”

“That’s a huge indicator right there, man. He’s a werewolf and you guys have already become good friends, at the very least?”

“Yeah.” Stiles runs the gel through his hair like Danielle showed him and tries to play with it a bit to make it look like how she’d styled it. 

“Werewolves are pretty standoffish when it comes to new people, you know that. And you also know that sexuality is a bit more fluid for werewolves.”

“It might not be that way for Derek. What if he’s straight as an arrow, like you?”

Scott laughs. “Stiles, I don’t want to rock your world, but I used to hook up with Isaac all the time in college.”

“What?” Stiles squeaks. “You’re not bi, I’d know, you’re my best friend.”

“No, not bi. Heteroflexible. I prefer women most of the time, but there have been exceptions.”

“What the fuck, man,” Stiles screeches.

“Fine, one exception.”

“Goddamn Isaac and his cherubic dimples.” Stiles laughs. “But this still doesn’t mean that Derek’s into me.”

“Maybe not, but I’m just saying you can’t rule out the possibility. And you're positive he knows know you’re bi?”

Stiles considers it for a moment. He knows he talked about Heather and for sure he referenced Danny. “I guess he may have missed the memo on that. I don’t know. I can’t remember what I said about Danny. I just hate talking about him, you know?” Stiles says as rinses his hands and dries them.

“Have you been thinking about Danny a lot?”

Stiles grabs his phone and heads to his closet and considers the question. He dresses in the clothes Caitlin picked out for him. “It’s been such a whirlwind. I haven’t focused on him too much. I mean, it’s always in the back of my mind. But Dereks’ been a good distraction in that department.”

“Obviously I don’t know Derek, but anyone that can get you to stop obsessing about your breakup with Danny is okay in my book.”

“Fuck. This pep talk did not help, Scott.”

Scott laughs. “I don’t know what you want from me, bro. I just want you to be happy, and it sounds like Derek makes you happy.”

“How’s that supposed to help me get through this date with Allison? How am I supposed to know if Derek really feels something for me besides friendship?”

“I don’t know, Stiles. Maybe you should just come out and ask him?”

“Circle yes or no if you like me? Seems a little juvenile, if you ask me.”

“I have faith you’ll work it out,” Scott says like the cheerleader he is.

The doorbell rings and Stiles sighs again. “I have to go, Scott. The car service is here.”

“Keep me posted, okay?”

“Will do. Bye.”

“Bye.” They both disconnect. Stiles takes one last look at himself in the mirror. He likes the cut of the clothes, but they don’t do much to make Stiles feel ready to face the world. 

He trudges to the door and greets the customer service rep from the car service. He signs a contract and the company unloads a vintage Porsche onto his driveway. Stiles can’t really believe how easy life can be with millions in the bank. He fires up the engine and heads to the floral shop to pick up Allison’s bouquet. He freaks out for ten seconds after he parks the car in the strip mall lot and hopes no one dings it. He takes a few pictures in its pristine condition and texts them to Derek for the hell of it. 

**Stiles:** For insurance purposes.

He even takes a selfie with the car in the background. He makes a silly face like he’s really mugging for the camera. It looks like he’s giving his best Zoolander impression.

 **Stiles:** My sweet ride for the day.

Stiles heads into Ennis’ shop and takes a look at the mixed bouquet he put together. They look almost like wildflowers and they smell fresh but not overly fragrant. Stiles thanks Ennis and pays the man. On the way out of the shop, Stiles’ phone buzzes with Derek’s response.

 **Derek:** Hey there, Dylan McKay.

Stiles snorts out loud. Derek is surprising in a lot of ways, but mostly it’s his dated pop culture references that get him. Luckily, Stiles has had too many hours on his hands in the past few months, and may have watched the first several seasons of _Beverly Hills, 90210_ on Netflix. After he buckles into the old car, he fires a message back.

 **Stiles:** Would you rather I rented an early 90s Corvette so I could be like Steve Sanders?

Stiles has to put his phone on the passenger seat to concentrate as he drives the relic of a car to Erica’s office. When he arrives the production crew greets him in the parking lot. He gets a microphone pack hooked up and someone installs a small camera to the windshield of the Porsche. Isaac introduces Stiles quickly to the chef that’s going to be leading the cooking lesson. Erica comes out to check on Stiles’, but Stiles can see Boyd’s busy on the phone. He’s probably coordinating Derek’s date.

“Stiles, you look fantastic.” Erica gives him a lingering glance. 

Stiles rubs his chin nervously. “Thanks.” He may be wearing new clothes, but he’s still the same insecure Stiles inside.

“I talked to Caitlin,” Erica informs him.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, she said you and Derek made quite the pair.”

“Huh.” Stiles has absolutely no idea where she’s going with it.

“She said he seemed to have a lot of ideas about what would look best on you. Danielle said something similar…”

Stiles’ cheeks feel warm. “Derek _is_ pretty well put together.” He has no idea what he’s saying and why it comes out sounding so suggestive. He meant to say that Derek is sophisticated, and seems to have some idea how to do his hair that doesn’t look like he just rolled out of bed, and just one of Derek’s outfits looks more expensive than Stiles' entire wardrobe. So yeah, it’s totally okay if Derek offered his fashion and styling advice.

Erica gives him a wolfish grin. “So you _did_ notice.”

Stiles shrugs his shoulders. He’s not going to confirm nor deny it. He’s already said too much.

Erica seems to take pity on him. “Have fun with Allison, okay? Just get through filming and then, you know, see where things go?” Erica squeezes his shoulder for a second and then breezes past him back toward her office.

Stiles lets out a huge sigh of relief. Either he’s really good at fooling werewolves or Erica is also playing her cards close to the vest.

“Stiles?” Erica calls from the doorway. 

“Yeah?”

“For what it’s worth, I think he notices you too.” Erica gives him a small smile and heads back inside to her office.

All right, so maybe Erica knows more than she’s letting on, but Stiles cannot deal with her right now, but he also can’t deny the warm feeling spreading throughout his body. He decides that he’ll unpack what Erica said about Derek when he has privacy to freak out and replay every interaction and look for hidden meaning. 

The film crew heads out and signals for him to get going to pick up Allison. Stiles drives to her apartment complex in Westwood. He keeps up an easy banter about nothing in particular for the B-roll. He talks about how he hasn’t gone on a proper date in a long time, certainly not since he became a millionaire. 

Stiles gets a message on his phone and checks it at a stop light.

 **Derek:** You don’t have the curls to pull off Steve Sanders.

Stiles snorts and smiles wide. He kind of can’t believe he’s on his way to pick up Allison and he’s giggling over texts from Derek referencing _Beverly Hills, 90201_. He sets the phone back down and keeps driving, the nervous energy that’s been thrumming through him feels calmer now. It’s no coincidence that it’s because of Derek.

When Stiles pulls up to Allison’s apartment he spots a production van and someone hooking up Allison’s mic pack. He parks and gives her a second to get situated. When she starts walking down the street toward the car, Stiles hops out and grabs the flowers for her. She’s got a huge smile on her face and looks genuinely happy to see Stiles decked out and driving a vintage Porsche. 

“Hi, Allison!” 

They meet on the sidewalk and lean in for a friendly hug and double kiss on the cheeks. It’s a lot less awkward than the kiss Stiles gave Caitlin.

“Oh my gosh, are those for me?” Allison’s dimples seem to grow deeper.

Stiles hands her the bouquet. “They are,” he says cheerfully. 

“That’s so sweet of you. And wow, that car is something else,” she says as she brings the bouquet to her nose to sniff them. “They smell so gorgeous. Thank you, Stiles.” Allison uses her thumb to gesture toward her apartment. “How about I put these in water before we go?”

“Okay, whatever you want.”

“Do you want to come up?” 

Both Allison and Stiles look at the camera crew nervously, unsure if that’s allowed. Someone waves them on so they take the cue to go. They walk toward her apartment and make small talk about the weather and the neighborhood. Allison unlocks the door and ushers Stiles inside. Allison’s apartment is small but homey.

“It’s not much. I’m hardly here. I spend most of my time in class or in the library,” Allison explains as she heads into the kitchen.

“Yeah, you said you were finishing up your degree.” Stiles notes the piles of books and notebooks on her coffee table.

“Yes, in French.”

“Oh, that’s great. I took Spanish. C’est la vie, I guess?” Stiles offers.

Allison makes quick work of finding a vase. Ennis’ arrangement is good enough that she doesn’t have to fuss with them too much. 

“They look perfect.”

“I’m glad you like them.”

“What a charmer.” Allison beams at him as she takes his arm.

Stiles feels momentarily guilty since the flowers weren’t his idea. The date was pretty much planned by Scott on the fly. If it had been up to Stiles, he would have taken Allison out in his Jeep instead of renting a car, and they probably would have ended up going on a drive through Laurel Canyon and then ended up at some place he found on Yelp. It’s not that he can’t be a big gesture guy, he just usually reserves it for when he really knows a person.

Stiles and Allison head back out to his rented sports car, and the camera crew in the follow car signals when they’re ready. 

“So either you can be my navigation, or we can listen to my GPS give me directions,” Stiles says as he gets the restaurant’s address programmed.

Allison extends her hand. “Give it here.” She looks over the route. “Looks easy enough. How long have you been in LA?”

“I swear I’m not that directionally challenged. I’ve been here a few months, I just don’t get out much.” Stiles check his side view mirror and pulls out onto the street. “I’m good until after the freeway. Then you’ll need to give me the play by play.”

Allison giggles. “Is it weird that I find it attractive when a man can admit when he’s lost?”

The drive to the restaurant doesn’t take long. The freeway is clear at that time of day. It makes it easy for Stiles to keep up a constant banter with Allison about nothing in particular. They talk about what it’s like to be transplants in LA and what they miss from back home. 

After they park, Stiles hops out as quickly as possible and opens Allison’s door for her. Stiles only did that for Heather on special occasions, but he knew how much she appreciated the gesture. With Danny, they had traded off being romantic saps, opening doors for each other, writing love notes, making the coffee in the morning. When they were together they were broke and couldn’t really afford fancy meals out or expensive gifts, but small gestures didn’t cost them a dime. Stiles feels a tug in his chest at the thought of having that in his life again. It’s stupid, but he felt stupidly happy when Derek made him coffee with his expensive and intimidating machine.

Allison smiles at Stiles as she takes his hand. They walk to the restaurant and their conversation becomes stilted for a moment. Stiles is distracted by memories of his exes and the unanswered text from Derek on his phone. It’s not fair to Allison and he knows that. 

“Sorry, it’s just the cameras…” Stiles offers lamely.

“Yeah, they’re a bit much.” Allison gives him a tight smile.

“I wasn’t nervous before--”

Allison stops him before he can continue. She faces him. “Let’s just pretend they’re not here.”

Stiles zeros in on her face and yeah, Stiles thinks he can do that. Allison is a real person, and it’s easy to focus on one person at a time, much like he had at the mixer. When he had moments of being overwhelmed by the lights or felt like he was having an out of body experience talking to ten glamazons, he’d looked over at Derek and it centered him. Ironic as it may be while filming a reality dating series, this isn’t just a show for Stiles, he genuinely wants to make a connection and find love.

“Just you and me,” Stiles says, looking directly into Allison’s warm brown eyes.

Allison nods in agreement. “Let’s do this.” 

The date itself consists of a cooking lesson led by one of Erica’s chef friends, Greenberg, cocktails and appetizers on the deck while the sun sets, and then dinner and dessert. They have a hand in preparing everything. Allison is a natural in the kitchen, but Stiles is no slouch either. 

“It looks like you’ve done this a time or two,” Allison says from her station right next to him She’s carefully prepping vegetables and Stiles is at the sink readying the potatoes.

“What, making mashed potatoes?” 

“Yeah.”

“From the time I was eleven, I was raised by a single father. I made a lot of dinners on my own,” Stiles says cautiously. He really doesn’t want to talk about his mother’s death on TV.

Allison seems to understand his tone. She shifts the conversation to herself to give him an out. “I cook with my mom a lot, and my dad bakes. I never had the patience for that though.”

“What do you cook with your mom?” 

“Everything. A lot of French food.”

“Fancy. I mostly use a crockpot. Chicken and potatoes, pot roast and potatoes, you get the drift. I know a few Polish dishes though.”

“My parents are really proud of our French heritage. The day I made coq au vin from start to finish on my own my mother cried.”

Stiles laughs. “My dad was just happy I didn’t burn the house down.”

“Oh, don’t sell your talents short.”

“I’m not. Trust me, that’s why I volunteered for the potatoes. I’ll leave you to julienne. Peeling is more my speed.” Stiles tosses the last peeled potato into a bowl.

Greenberg praises their work and then has them start on other tasks. 

“So what do you like to do for fun, Stiles?” Allison hip checks him gently as they measure seasoning and spices.

Stiles cringes. He doesn’t have a lot going on in his life right now, and he wishes he had more to show for it like exciting hobbies or plans to do _something_. “Video games, ultimate frisbee, running, reading. You know, the usual. If my buddy Scott is free we’ll do pick up lacrosse in the park.”

“Do you go out a lot?”

Stiles laughs nervously, remembering the conversation he’d had with Derek the night before. “No, not really. I have a few friends, no one close really in LA, except Scott. He’s in vet school, so he’s pretty busy. Sometimes I’ll tag along if he goes out with school friends. What about you?”

“Well, I don’t have a ton of free time since I’m in school, too. But if I have time, sometimes I’ll meet up with Lydia and we’ll go dancing or do brunch. It’s weird how even just doing mundane things like running errands with a friend can be fun.”

Stiles misses that kind of easy friendship. He’s truly enjoyed that kind of companionship over the last few days with Derek. They fit in way Stiles didn’t think would be possible with a virtual stranger. Stiles has always been kind of an acquired taste, as far as friends go. 

Greenberg checks on their progress again and then has Stiles start on dessert preparation. Conversation slows because they’re both so focused on their tasks. It gives Stiles a chance to breathe, knowing the cameras aren’t really capturing anything all that interesting. In a moment of weakness he lets his mind drift back to Derek. Stiles wonders what he’s up to today. He supposes he’s planning his date with Lydia, and that makes him sigh audibly.

“Everything okay?” Allison asks from her station where she’s working on the meat.

“Oh, yeah…” Stiles doesn’t offer much for an explanation. He rinses his hands at the sink and excuses himself to find the men’s restroom. He’s grateful when the cameras don’t follow him and a PA turns off his mic for privacy.

Stiles takes his phone out of his pocket and checks Derek’s message. He smiles again at their conversation from earlier. He isn’t sure what to say, if he should keep up the bit about 90s heartthrobs or if it would be okay to just randomly text something else. He has to decide quickly before a crew member barges in looking for him.

 **Stiles:** Next time I’ll ask Danielle for a perm. How do you think I’d look as a blond?

Stiles tucks his phone away and uses the facilities. While he’s washing his hands he feels his phone buzz in his pocket.

 **Derek:** I’m sure you could pull it off, but I prefer brunettes, personally.

Stiles furrows his brow. He wonders what that’s supposed to mean? Before he can worry over it too much, he gets another text.

 **Derek:** Aren’t you supposed to be on your date with Allison?

Stiles grins and decides to go with honesty.

 **Stiles:** Hiding in the bathroom.

 **Derek:** Things are that bad?

 **Stiles:** Nah, I just feel like this is more of a friends thing.

 **Derek:** I’m sorry?

 **Stiles:** It’s okay. Really. She’d be perfect for Scott, actually.

 **Derek:** I feel bad keeping you...

 **Stiles:** I guess I should get back out there. Have a good day, D.

 **Derek:** :-) 

Stiles grin goes wider. It’s official, he thinks everything Derek Hale does is _adorable_.

The rest of the date with Allison is okay. It takes a lot longer to film than Stiles anticipated. He understands now why their date started so early. In addition to the regular date being filmed, every so often a producer takes them each aside to film B-roll. 

Stiles does a pretty good job of not thinking about Derek, but only because he actually turns off his phone so he isn’t tempted to check it. They enjoy the tomato and burrata appetizer they helped Greenberg prepare. They both pace themselves and adhere to Erica’s two drink maximum. When dinner is served they both eat heartily, if only to keep their mouths and hands occupied. The grilled Italian herbed lamb chops, mashed potatoes, and spring vegetables are simple yet delicious. About half way through the meal, Allison sits back and takes a sip of her wine and studies Stiles.

He feels shy under scrutiny. “What? Do I have something on my face?” He dabs at his mouth and chin with his cloth napkin.

Allison laughs. “No, I was just thinking you seem so, I don’t know, _normal_.”

Stiles throws his head back and laughs maniacally. 

“Seriously!” Allison continues after a beat, “Why do you even need to use someone like Erica to get a date?” 

Stiles feels overly warm and peels off his jacket. He wonders if his sleeveless shirt looks weird. It’s decidedly less casual than what Allison’s wearing. She looks effortlessly glamorous in a white dress with blue strappy heels. He might only feel friendly vibes toward her, but he can objectively say she’s gorgeous. 

Allison just stares at him, and isn’t exactly stealthy in the way her eyes roam over him. She doesn’t say anything else though, like she’s still waiting for him to answer her question.

Stiles blushes and runs his hand through his hair. “I mean, I don’t know. My buddy is friends with Isaac, and they both thought maybe it would be a good idea for me to try out Erica’s service. I haven’t exactly been lucky in love lately.”

Allison snorts, but it’s not unkind. “You’re what, twenty-five?”

Stiles nods his head. 

“I mean, how many people at twenty-five have their lives sorted out?” Allison prods him.

He shrugs. “I guess I just figured, I have the money, so why can’t I have someone to love, to love me back, too? Does that make me sound horribly entitled and greedy?” Stiles scratches at his chin, a nervous habit he’s never been able to curb.

Allison shakes her head. “I remember this bittersweet feeling after winning the Gold. I was ecstatic to have achieved my goal that I’d been working towards for so long, but there was this thought that I couldn’t get out of my head, not to sound conceited or ungrateful, but it was--”

“Like, ‘Now what?’” Stiles finishes her sentence.

Allison gives him a watery smile and nods. “Yeah.”

Stiles leans forward. “I was telling Derek about that. For me it was becoming an,” he uses air quotes, “ _overnight millionaire_ , but the price of that was losing my relationship, the partnership we had, and the business itself.”

“It’s like you lose a part of yourself when you’re at the top, because you have nothing left to chase. There’s nowhere to go from there, and you’re all alone.”

Stiles plays with his food. “Yeah… It’s… It can be lonely.”

Allison takes another sip of her wine. “It’s like we don’t quite fit. I went back to school for lack of anything better to do. It’s respectable, I guess.”

“Better than moping around the house waiting for Scott to finish vet school.”

“You don’t seem mopey.”

Stiles snorts. “You should have seen me a week ago, hell, even just a few days ago.”

Allison smiles. “What happened a few days ago to make you stop moping?” She quirks an eyebrow.

Stiles feels his face get hot, and knows his cheeks are ruddy and splotched. The thing that happened to him is Derek. Derek is the bright spot in his life now, he’s the one that cracked Stiles’ protective shell, he’s the person that makes him excited to see where his future will take him. Of course, he can’t exactly say that out loud. 

Greenberg saves the day by swooping in to clear their dinner plates. “Are you ready to try the dessert Stiles helped me make?” he asks. 

Allison’s eyes twinkle. “Sounds good.”

Stiles is nervous. He’d measured and stirred for Greenberg, but he never really understood the concept of the dish. A few minutes later Greenberg returns with two plates and two tiny coffees.

“This looks like cheesecake,” Stiles says with a quizzical smile. 

“It is. It’s my take on a tiramisu. Enjoy!”

“It’s really beautiful. I almost don’t want to eat it.” Allison says as she drinks from the tiny espresso cup.

Stiles smirks. “I swear I’m not a pretentious foodie or anything, but I have to take a picture of this for a friend.” Stiles takes his phone out and powers it on. “No one is going to believe I had any hand in making this.”

Allison giggles. “Send it to me too. My dad will get a kick out of it.”

“Are you going to try a bite?”

“Yes, but you go first. I’m scared,” Allison admits. “I once made a pumpkin pie and forgot the sugar.” .

“I tried making Scott’s mom a cake for her birthday once and the thing came out flat, chewy, and sad looking. I didn’t think it was possible to ruin a cake from a box.” Stiles snaps a picture of the beautiful slice of tiramisu cheesecake and texts it to Derek without explanation. 

“Oh, that’s too bad when food doesn’t turn out, especially when you’re making it for someone else,” Allison sympathizes.

“I mean, it turned out okay. Scott just cut the cake into little rectangles and called them vanilla squares.”

Allison smiles and claps her hands. “Oh my God, that’s the best. I love people that can just roll with it, you know? It’s a good counterbalance to my overthinking and perfectionism.”

Stiles can only agree. “You’d love Scott then. I mean, everyone loves Scott. He’s the best. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without him this year.”

“It’s good to have people in our lives who get us like that.”

If Stiles had any doubt about setting Allison up with Scott, it’s assuaged. Stiles feels absolutely no romantic attachment to Allison. Their personalities don’t complement each other, they’re too similar but not in a good way.

Greenberg wraps up the giant cheesecake and insists that they take it home. Allison begs Stiles to take it. She reminds him that she’s heading out for Paris and she’ll only have to dump it along with the rest of the contents of her fridge before she goes. Stiles and Allison head back toward her apartment and make more small talk in the car. Stiles asks her about her trip, but otherwise his mind is fixated on how exactly to tell her _it’s not you, it’s me, but let me set you up with my BFF_.

When Stiles pulls up in front of her curb, Allison gets out of the car without waiting for him to open the door. He figures it’s a sign she knows this isn’t a love connection. He rounds the front of the car to meet her at the curb.

She smiles at him demurely. “I had a great time, Stiles. Thank you so much…” she trails off.

Stiles kicks the sidewalk sheepishly. “Maybe you could give me your number? I could send you the picture? And, um…”

Allison smiles knowingly. She leans in for a hug and whispers into his ear, “After the cameras are off.”

A PA comes over to undo Allison’s and Stiles’s microphone packs a moment later. They film crew deems the date to be over, and it’s a total relief to Stiles. Stiles walks Allison up to her apartment and they both chuckle awkwardly.

“Look, I really don’t know how to say this without sounding like a total dick--”

“Don’t even worry about it. I had this feeling...like we’re just better suited as friends.” Allison gives him a kind look.

“That’s such a relief,” Stiles rushes out. “I was actually thinking you’d be perfect for Scott. Would that be weird, for me to set you up with him?”

Allison smiles and flashes him both dimples. “That would be really nice, actually. I programmed my number into your phone while I was reading the directions off of your GPS app.” Allison grabs Stiles arm as she unlocks her front door. She turns toward him and regards him seriously. “Before you go, I just wanted to say something. I don’t know your whole story, I get that. I’m not sure what’s making you hold back, because you’re amazing. You are literally the whole package, and just in case no one ever told you that or someone made you question it, I just thought you should know. You’re going to make someone incredibly happy… And call me crazy, but it seems like maybe you already have.”

Stiles feels floored. His eyes sting and he has to hold back the impulse to sniffle. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Allison kisses him chastely on the cheek. “Take care of yourself, Stiles.” Allison steps inside her apartment and closes the door behind her, leaving Stiles stunned in her doorway.

Stiles heads back to the street and a producer gives him instructions to call Erica to set up time to film more B-roll. Stiles nods his agreement and then gets back in his rented Porsche. He drives home on auto pilot, and the only thing he can think about is the three-quarters of a cheesecake sitting on the floor of the backseat and texting with Derek until he falls asleep.

* * *

Derek is so keyed up about Stiles’ date with Allison that he spends most of the early afternoon working out in the hotel gym. He forces himself to leave his phone in his room because he’s been checking it obsessively ever since they exchanged their last texts. Derek does a quick two mile warm up on the treadmill, then switches to weights and lifts until his limbs feel like jelly. He cools down in the pool and then hits the steam room. It doesn’t quite clear his head like he hoped, but it gives him a lot of solitary time to think about Stiles and worry about his own date coming up with Lydia.

Derek spends the rest of the afternoon and evening coordinating his date with Boyd. There’s a surprising amount to be done, and he’s momentarily jealous of Stiles’ date because it was planned in less than a day. He curses his decision to film in a public location. Derek puts together an outfit in his head and thinks about whether or not he should get flowers for Lydia like Stiles did for Allison. He decides against it--he’s already sending a limo to get her from her place in Pasadena. It’s probably overkill and he really doesn’t want to send the wrong message to Lydia.

When Derek finally settles into bed for the night it’s after ten. His skin is pink and flushed from an extended soak in the tub and he just wants to sleep. He checks his phone one last time out of habit, long ago having given up on getting another text from Stiles. The last one had just been a picture of dessert with no explanation. He’s surprised when he finds three texts.

9:42 PM  
 **Stiles:** Just got home from the date. 

9:46 PM  
 **Stiles:** I have three-quarters of a cheesecake leftover. Do you want to come over and stop me from eating the whole thing?

9:53 PM  
 **Stiles:** You’re probably asleep so I’ll stop bugging you. I hope you had a good day. Good luck on your date.

Derek curses himself. He should just leave it, but he can’t help himself.

 **Derek:** Sorry I missed you earlier. Just crawled into bed. I’m exhausted. 

The response is immediate.

 **Stiles:** It’s okay. I decided my bed sounded better than eating more cheesecake.

Derek smiles at the mental image of Stiles lazing in his big bed, the scratchy duvet shoved down around his feet and his soft blanket pulled tightly around him.

 **Derek:** More for tomorrow, I guess.

10:18 PM  
 **Stiles:** :-) You have to taste it. I MADE IT.

Derek smiles.

 **Derek:** Is it edible?

 **Stiles:** IT’S FUCKING DELICIOUS, DUDE.

 **Derek:** I’ll be the judge of that.

 **Stiles:** I’m going to hold you to that. 

Derek groans. Stiles is definitely flirting with him. There’s really no other way to describe their banter, right?

 **Stiles:** Text me after you’re done tomorrow. I’ll feed you humble pie.

Derek sighs. The last thing he wants to think about is his date with Lydia, but maybe knowing he’ll see Stiles afterward is good motivation.

 **Derek:** Ok. It’s a date.

He hits send before he can correct himself. He makes a strangled noise and smacks his forehead with his hand.

 **Stiles:** Alright. Sleep tight, Derek.

Derek can’t think of what to say so he settles for something succinct.

 **Derek:** Night.

***

Derek gets up obscenely early the next morning and has way too much time on his hands before his date. He goes for a workout, but he keeps it easy. He uses the elliptical machine and tries to zone out with some morning news program on in the background. He takes a quick shower, he knows that no good can come of letting his thoughts wander under the hot spray of the showerhead. He’s already jerked off to thoughts of Stiles too many times over the last few of days. He takes the time to shave and style his hair properly. He gets dressed in comfy sweats and putters around the hotel room until it’s a reasonable to send for room service.

Kira calls him while he’s sitting down to his poached eggs, dry wheat toast and side of fruit. 

“Hi, Kira,” Derek says through a mouthful of toast. 

“Hey, Derek! Are you all set for your big date?”

Derek grumbles something inaudible. 

Kira laughs teasingly. “Oh come one, it’s just one date. You can do it.”

“Yeah, one date _on TV_.”

“At least it’s not live?” Kira always looks for the bright side.

“I’m supposed to see Stiles afterward.”

“Oh, well, I guess that’s something.”

Derek can feel her silent judgement. “What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. I can hear it in your tone.”

“Tone? Me. Nope. I have no tone.”

Derek lets out an impatient growl.

“Okay, fine, maybe I just think it’s not a good idea to keep spending so much time with Stiles. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you have a plan to come clean about your crush,” Kira finishes.

Derek spears a piece of fruit with his fork. “I agree.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I’m going to, I don’t know, tell him. I guess...” Derek says around a bite of strawberry.

“So you’re just going to blurt it out? No plan to woo him or anything?”

“I think the fact that I’m about to go on a cable TV dating show says that I have absolutely no ability to woo someone.”

Kira snorts. “Point.”

“Do you think I have a chance?” Derek wonders. He thinks he’s spotted Stiles looking at him approvingly, but he’s tried not to read anything into his scent like his mother taught him. As a born werewolf, Derek had been socialized since a young age not to infer much from human chemosignals. His mother said that scenting should be reserved for close relationships, anything less was invasive--even worse--reacting to chemosignals was presumptuous. 

“I definitely think you have a chance. He’d be crazy not to see how amazing you are. And from everything you’ve told me, it seems like he has noticed.”

“But what if I misread things? Maybe he wasn’t really flirting. What if he really does just see me as a friend?”

Kira exhales slowly. “It’s a possibility. But...Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“Sometimes you just have to take a risk and hope that things pan out. There’s never any surefire way of knowing something will work out.”

Derek sighs. He’s never been the type to leap blindly. “Thanks, Kira.”

“No problem.” Derek can hear her smile over the line. “I want details though.”

“Tomorrow?”

Kira giggles. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Will do.”

They hang up and Derek feels a little bit lighter. Come what may, he’s at least going to spend some time with Stiles tonight after his date, and even if it does result in his total embarrassment.

***

Derek arrives early at Griffith Observatory so that the limo driver can go collect Lydia in Pasadena. Derek lets Boyd direct him to the production vans where someone does a little bit of makeup on him and hooks up his microphone pack. They film some B-roll overlooking the city. When a PA asks him questions from just behind the camera, Derek does his best to answer with a few sentences rather than give one word answers. Derek mostly just waits and tries not to think of his cell phone burning a hole in his pocket. He wants to text Stiles, but he’s already feeling too flustered as it is.

Derek checks in with the catering company doing the picnic, and Boyd assures him he can handle everything while Derek is inside the museum with Lydia. When Lydia arrives almost an hour and a half later, Derek is a ball of nerves. He nearly trips over his own feet as he goes to open her door.

“Derek,” she says by way of greeting him.

“I’m so glad you could make it today.” Derek hopes his greeting sounds less awkward than it feels.

Lydia fixes him with a cold stare. Derek can tell she’s annoyed already, but he has absolutely no idea what he’s done to cause it.

“It’s a beautiful day,” Derek tries, his tone hopeful.

“It’s windy,” Lydia says as her gauzy dress blows around her legs.

Derek nods as he looks around at tourists pulling their windbreakers tighter around them. He’d noticed the weather earlier in an offhand kind of way, but he’s always run a little warm, and he thought the breeze offered relief from the afternoon sun. “Well, let’s head inside. Shall we?” Derek offers her his arm. It’s maybe a little old fashioned, but he doesn’t think Lydia would accept his jacket even though her arms are covered in goosebumps. 

The cameras track their every move, and Derek feels every hair on the back of his neck stand up. The Observatory is already noisy and crowded, and the camera crew is a distraction for the other museum patrons. He can hear people making comments about them and it’s unnerving. Derek tries to talk to Lydia, but she mostly gives him short answers and looks at various displays and stations with obvious disdain. 

After a mere thirty minutes into their date, Derek has already grown tired of Lydia’s apparent disinterest. She excuses herself to the ladies room, and the crew repositions to get some of Derek’s commentary for the B-roll. A production assistant asks Derek how he thinks the date is going.

“I don’t think Lydia is enjoying herself very much.” Derek rubs a hand over his face. “It could be the crowd. I don’t really know. We got along fine at the mixer, but today she just doesn’t seem all that engaged.”

When Lydia comes back from the bathroom Derek notices she’s wearing some sort of wedge heels. Derek’s seen Cora try to walk in them gracefully, but inevitably she ends up barefoot after an hour. Lydia drops down onto a bench and Derek goes to meet her.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks.

Lydia crosses an ankle over her knee and makes a pinched face.

Derek notices a blister forming on her foot. “Are you in pain?”

Lydia sighs. “Yeah.”

Derek puts his hand out tentatively. “If you want I can help with that.”

Lydia quirks an eyebrow. “I guess there are some advantages to you being a werewolf.” She nods her assent. 

Derek brushes her ankle tenderly and draws out some of the pain. Lydia closes her eyes and sighs.

“The other foot too?” Derek offers.

Lydia sets it daintily in his lap. Derek leeches the pain from that foot, too.

“Your shoes seem...” Derek trails off, knowing he’s headed into dangerous territory criticizing Lydia’s outfit.

“Impractical for walking around a museum?” Lydia snorts, and it’s the most unlady like thing Derek’s seen her do, but he decides he likes her all the more for it.

Derek nods. “Yeah, let’s go with that.”

Lydia snorts again. “Yeah, well, when Erica called she may have led me to believe you and I were going to be lounging poolside at the Chateau Marmont.”

Derek draws his eyebrows up in surprise. “Why would she lead you to believe that?”

“I have no idea. I mean, either she really can’t stand me or I misread her hint.”

“What did she say?”

“She said to be prepared for a glamorous Old Hollywood afternoon. She mentioned you were staying at the Chateau. I’m not sure where I got the idea about a pool.”

“The outfit?” Derek takes in her appearance again and notices the halter top of what is obviously a bathing suit. The gauzy dress isn’t really a dress, so much as a cover-up.

“Yeah, I thought we’d be having cocktails and laying out on lounge chairs.” Lydia smiles and knocks her knee against Derek’s

Derek shakes his head. “That would have been a great idea.”

Lydia laughs. “Yeah, it was probably wishful thinking on my part. Do you mind if we move on to the next part of the date? Even though you took away the pain in my feet, I feel kind of silly traipsing around in here dressed like this.”

Derek smiles. “Sure, lunch is set up outside.”

Lydia puts her shades back on and she looks so glamorous, and honestly a little out of place amongst the hordes of families touring the museum. Derek looks over dressed in comparison, but at least his clothes aren’t sheer. They head out to the grassy area where Boyd has directed the catering company to set up their picnic on the lawn. He’d fought with Erica about it, and in the end he won. She wanted him to set up the picnic at a table and serve foods that require a fork and knife. The simple finger foods look great and Lydia doesn’t seems to mind them. She does make a face though when she tries to arrange herself on the picnic blanket. 

After a long silence, Lydia speaks up, “So, why did you pick me for your date?”

Derek wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Honestly, I think I liked that you were a bit of a challenge.”

Lydia smirks. “So you have a thing for headstrong women?”

Derek lights up. “I guess I’m just used to them.”

“You come from a big family, right?”

“I do. And I’m severely outnumbered by my sisters, and my cousin and my best friend who both women. They’re dating, actually.”

Lydia gives him an assessing look. “What are you looking for in a partner?” 

Derek considers the question thoughtfully. “I want someone I can do the little and big things with--simple stuff like running around town doing errands and planning big trips--someone who wants a future with me.”

Lydia nods. “I think those are all good things to want, but I have to be upfront with you. I’m not really at a place in my life where I have a lot of time or room for someone. You seem like a good guy, but I’m just being realistic. I have another year of writing for my dissertation and I’ll also be applying to a million post-docs and tenure-track jobs. I hardly have time to do my own errands, much less have time to make a date out of them. And I can’t remember the last vacation I took either.”

Derek feels both relieved and deeply saddened. He’s not looking for a deep connection with Lydia, but he’s also disappointed with himself for picking the kind of woman who is pretty much opposite of what he was looking for in a partner. Even with Erica’s help, he’d fallen into the comfortable habit of self-sabotage. He realizes he hasn’t responded to Lydia and she’s waiting on him to keep up the conversation. “Do you want to travel? Like someday, maybe in the future?”

Lydia tilts her head and squints at the sun. “Sure, I’d like to travel for work and see cities while I’m giving papers at conferences and doing research. I’d love to be in a position in my life where my work makes that possible. But I can’t say I’ve ever had wanderlust.”

Derek can’t relate. He’s always loved traveling, discovering the sights and smells of new places. “Your work sounds very important to you.”

“It is. When I was in high school I decided I would win the Fields Medal, and everything I do is to reach that goal.”

Derek smiles. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you, Lydia.”

Lydia beams and it’s the first time all day that she’s looked genuinely happy. They finish their meal and then Derek suggests taking a stroll. It’s a lot easier said than done. Lydia’s shoes aren’t a good footwear option for the tall grass. She spends a few minutes clinging to his arm and Derek’s glad he’s a werewolf because her grip is tight. She’d probably leave marks on a human. They wander to an overlook and use the telescope to take in the view of the city as the sun begins to descend. 

“Are you cold?” Derek asks when he notices Lydia shivering slightly.

Lydia bites her lip. “I’m okay. Really regretting this outfit choice though.”

Just then a gust of wind whips Lydia’s dress around her legs, exposing her to the families standing nearby. One mother makes a scandalized noise and covers her kid’s eyes.

“It’s just a bathing suit,” Lydia mutters as she tries to right her dress.

“Are you sure you don’t want my jacket?” Derek shrugs it off his shoulders.

Lydia gives him a tight lipped smile. “You know what, I think I’m just going to go,” she says as she jerks her thumb toward the parking lot. 

Derek’s cheeks heat up, feeling like he’s really screwed up even though he knows realistically this isn’t his fault. “Lydia, I’m so so sorry. Please don’t go,” Derek argues even though there’s not much conviction behind it.

Lydia gives his bicep a sympathetic pat. “There’s no way to salvage this date, Derek. I literally just flashed a group of families and small children.” She points to the crowd of bystanders gawking at her.

Derek doesn’t push the matter. He just helps her toward the parking lot and finds where the limo is parked. The production staff make Lydia film a short segment for the B-roll. Derek stands idly by and tries not to eavesdrop. He fiddles with his phone and decides to text Stiles. He tells himself it’s just to kill the time.

 **Derek:** Hey, we’re wrapping up. Are we still on to hang out?

Derek doesn’t have to wait long for a response. 

**Stiles:** Yeah, man. :) Do you want to come to my place?

Hope blooms in Derek’s chest. Maybe Stiles is just as hung up on Derek as he is on Stiles? It’ll be over an hour before the limo makes its way back to pick up Derek from dropping off Lydia in Pasadena. Derek would rather spend the time with Stiles than sit around Griffith Park waiting for his ride.

 **Derek:** Actually, I’m sending Lydia home in the limo I rented. Do you think you could come get me?

 **Stiles:** Sure thing. Do you want me to head out now or what?

Derek smiles. He hopes he doesn’t sound too eager, but he also doesn’t care. He’s done playing it cool.

 **Derek:** Now’s good.

Derek notices Lydia arguing with a PA when he looks up from his phone. He goes over to smooth out the situation. Lydia detaches her mic pack despite the PA telling her there’s still the goodbye scene to film. Lydia levels the crewmember with a look that shuts him up for good. He slinks back to the production van in defeat, with Derek’s and Lydia’s mic packs in hand. The camera operator follows suit. 

Derek holds open the limo door for Lydia. “I’m sorry things didn’t turn out better.” 

Lydia gives Derek a long look before finally speaking. “I think the date you planned was probably perfect, just not for me.”

Derek nods, begrudgingly remembering Erica’s words from earlier. Lydia is precisely who Erica told Derek she was--a woman who knows exactly what she wants, with high and exacting standards. She’s a champagne and caviar kind of woman, and Derek’s a man of simple pleasures. He might have millions in the bank and like driving fancy sport cars, but he also likes getting dirty on a hiking trails and eating on the lawn, grass stains be damned. 

“Maybe you’re right. It’s just, the park and the view of the city were so beautiful when Stiles brought me here, and I thought it would be...” Lydia’s calculating grin interrupts him from his train of thought. Derek can tell immediately that mentioning Stiles was the wrong thing to do.

“Stiles, huh?”

Derek wants to shrug it off, but there’s no use. Lydia can see right through him.

“You know, that makes a whole lot of sense, actually. And it really puts things into perspective if you consider the homoerotic subtext of _A Rebel Without a Cause_.

Derek feels like he’s had the wind knocked out of him. “What?” Derek finally manages after he gets his breath back.

“Jim and Plato from _A Rebel Without a Cause_.”

Derek knows the gist of the classic 50s film, and won’t deny that it’s part of the appeal of Griffith Observatory.

“Think about it,” Lydia says, and without further explanation pecks Derek’s cheek and slides into the limo.

Derek closes the door and takes a step back as it drives off down the hill. The crew finishes packing up and the production van exits the lot a few minutes later. Derek doesn’t even want to think about the phone call he’ll be getting from Erica in the morning. He really hopes she doesn’t work Sundays. Derek heads back to the observation deck. The view of the city at dusk is gorgeous and he really doesn’t want to miss it. He figures he’ll hear Stiles’ Jeep when it arrives.

Derek finds a solitary place and takes in the view of Los Angeles. He started out hating the city at the beginning of the week. The noise and light pollution make it impossible for him to see the stars and enjoy the quiet that nights usually bring. The smog that hangs over the city makes him feel unclean after being outside for any length of time. Derek can’t even bring himself to think about the traffic. But there are other things about LA that he’ll miss when he heads back up to the Bay Area, all right, _someone_. Derek must be really out of it to miss the sound of Stiles’ familiar tread and his particular scent.

“Hope you saved room for dessert.” Stiles sidles up to Derek and holds out a pastry box.

Derek takes him in and all he can really manage to do is smile. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says finally. It has more weight to it than Derek really intended, but it’s no less true.

Stiles hands him a fork and pops the lid back. Inside is a generous piece of cheesecake. “Dig in.”

Derek taps his fork against Stiles’ and that elicits a laugh from him. 

“To us. We made it,” Stiles says back.

Derek takes a large bite out of the cheesecake and it’s like a little bit of heaven in his mouth. He lets out a moan. Derek catches Stiles’ reaction, and yeah, he smells like lust and want and _need_. Stiles’ breath hitches and two little red spots form in the hollows of his cheeks. It’s adorable, and gives Derek a little boost of confidence.

“So, um, how did it go with Lydia?”

Derek chortles. “About as well as I could have hoped for, I guess.”

Stiles gives him a questioning look. “How do you mean?”

Derek shakes his head. “It was probably doomed from the start. I knew Erica was pissed when I picked Lydia.” Derek takes another bite, and tries to savor the taste of it on his tongue. “She didn’t meet my list of non-negotiables.”

Stiles shrugs his shoulders. “I guess it’s good you recognized that. Better late than never?” 

Stiles takes a bite and looks back out over the city. Derek watches his profile and is struck by him, overwhelmed by just being so close to him. He’s broad shouldered, and Derek’s not sure if it’s a werewolf thing or just Derek thing, but his neck is gorgeous. It’s long and sinewy, and Derek wants to scent him, lick, suck, bite, kiss the delicate skin there. Stiles’ face is quite simply put, pretty. There’s no other way to describe it. 

Derek pries his eyes away and continues, “And the date itself was kind of a bust.”

“Really?” Stiles gives a sideways glance at Derek.

“At the end of it she said it was nice, just not for her. Erica warned me about that too. She said the Lydia Martins of the world wouldn’t be impressed with a picnic and a trip to a museum, they want to be wined and dined.”

Stiles laughs, but it’s not unkind. “I guess maybe the whole ‘millionaire’ thing does set people up for high expectations.”

Derek shrugs his shoulders. He knows he’s stalling. He should come right out and say what’s on his mind, but he can’t. It’s on the tip of his tongue, but he lacks the courage.

“For what it’s worth, I think it’s super romantic,” Stiles says, his voice a half an octave lower, his tone hopeful.

Derek looks over at Stiles--that's exactly what he needs to hear. He leans into Stiles’ space and kisses him. It’s not tentative, but it’s not self-assured either. It’s like Derek’s asking a question with his lips. _Is this okay?_ Half a second later, Stiles opens his mouth to answers him. They kiss for a while, and when Derek opens his eyes the light has dipped a little bit lower on the horizon. It’s the golden hour, and Stiles looks like he’s been sent down from the heavens. The cameras were meant to be rolling on Derek’s date right about now, but he’s thankful that the crew is gone, and the only people enjoying the moment are him and Stiles.

Stiles seems stunned silent, a first in the time Derek’s known him. He takes the opportunity to speak up. “It is romantic. I think Jim and Plato would approve.”

Stiles quirks his mouth. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Well, Lydia did. Her parting words were about the homoerotic subtext between them.”

Stiles throws back his head and laughs. He looks relieved and content, and Derek feels the same way. Stiles looks down to the dessert box. “Last bite.”

“It’s yours. You made it,” Derek says.

Stiles grins and picks up the last bite with his fork, but instead of bringing it to his lips he holds the fork up to Derek’s. “But it’s your favorite.”

Derek watches Stiles intense gaze and follows a path to his lips. They’re perfectly pink and Derek wants to kiss them again. He swoops in and takes the bite off the fork and gives Stiles a closed mouth grin.

“Good?” Stiles asks.

“Perfect,” Derek says. 

He tosses the box and forks in a nearby receptacle. They go back to watching the sunset. The observation deck is quiet now. All the families have gone home, leaving the couples scattered around enjoying the view.

“You’re really hard to read,” Stiles says a while later, “but I think the kiss cleared up the confusion.” 

Derek turns toward him and catches Stiles blushing again. “I thought there was a chance you might like me as more than a friend, but I couldn’t be sure. You’re good at deflecting,” Derek explains.

“You’re a werewolf. I thought for sure you’d smell it on me.”

Derek ducks his head. “We’re taught from an early age to be as unobtrusive about it as possible.”

“Huh. Scott must have missed that memo.” Stiles laughs.

“It’s the difference between bitten and born weres. It’s considered an invasion of privacy. And scents can be misleading, you know. Especially when you’re in public or around other people, if you don’t know someone well.”

“I wasn’t sure if you dated men,” Stiles admits.

Derek nods. “I’ve never been much of a dater in general, but I’ve been with men before.” He doesn’t want to get into specifics, and knows it’ll be a conversation for another day. “I should have figured you out when you mentioned your partner. But you were vague about pronouns, and I just assumed Danny was Dani with an I. You played it cool.”

Stiles lets out a groan. “I’m really not cool at all about Danny, it’s why I haven’t brought him up. _He_ is why I told Erica I was only looking for women.”

“If you’re not over him, it’s okay,” Derek says. He can hear the disappointment in his own voice.

Stiles leans closer and practically whispers into his ear, “I hardly think about him anymore. Ever since I met you, I just haven’t felt the same. It was time to let it go, but I think it was easy to hold on to the hurt when I was alone. Just spending time with you helped.”

Derek leans a little closer so their shoulders are touching. He can feel Stiles’ heat through his t-shirt. “I know what you mean.”

“Do you want to come home with me?” Stiles asks, his meaning clear. 

Derek closes the distance between them, slots their mouths together and hopes that’s answer enough, because he doesn’t trust himself to speak. They kiss for an indecent amount of time considering they’re in public. Somehow Derek maneuvers them so that Stiles’ back is pressed against the railing. Stiles makes little noises that send Derek’s body into a frenzy. He wants to rut shamelessly, but he does everything he can to keep it PG-13. When Derek pulls back he focuses on Stiles’ spit slick lips. He brushes his thumb down Stiles’ lower lip which looks red and abused, and then further down his chin and realizes it’s stubble burn. 

“Does it hurt? It looks like you got up close and personal with sandpaper.”

Stiles leans into Derek’s neck and nuzzles. “Worth it,” he says into Derek’s skin.

Derek touches his cheek. “I think my five o’clock shadow is rougher on your skin than my actual beard.” 

Stiles hums. “I liked your beard. It looked soft.” Stiles cups Derek’s face like he’s about to lean in for another heated kiss.

Derek isn’t interested in PG-13 anymore. “Let’s go home,” Derek says as he grabs Stiles around the waist. The park is painted in twilight, but Derek is done with being romantic. He manhandles Stiles back toward Jeep, the sun just a sliver on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter title taken from a Best Coast song. Give [Let's Go Home](http://youtu.be/hz8QsXtKuIU) a listen!


	8. I haven't changed a bit, I'm still not over it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Stiles and Derek are on the same page. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this after a longer wait than I'd anticipated. Endless thanks to clio-jlh and foreverblue-navy for coddling me while I whined about this chapter and then betaed the beast. This thing is over 10k and is mostly feelings porn and well, porn.
> 
> Mind those more explicit tags! Yes, finally, it's happening.

Stiles leans into Derek heavily as they walk to the Jeep. He just can’t bring himself to put distance between them, not now, not after finally getting to touch Derek. Derek doesn’t seem to mind; the werewolf shoulders his weight easily. When they get to the car, Stiles presses Derek against the door for a kiss. It’s already been too long without his lips on Derek’s. Derek responds hungrily, opening his mouth for Stiles to thrust his tongue inside. Stiles wonders if this is a prelude to how it’s going to be once they get back to Stiles’ place.

Derek pulls back first, slightly out of breath, his cheeks flushed from excitement. “We should get in the car.”

Stiles takes a last lingering sniff at the base of Derek’s neck.

“Which one of us is the werewolf here?” Derek teases.

“I can’t help it. You just smell so good.” Stiles kisses him as far down as Derek’s collar will allow. Derek smells clean and warm, like fresh cut grass, summer sun, and something he can’t put his finger on. 

“Come on. Car. Let’s go,” Derek urges him.

“But driving means I have to take my hands off of you,” Stiles whines.

“Just think of it this way: the sooner we get back to your place, the sooner we can get out of these clothes and into bed,” Derek whispers into his ear. 

Stiles groans and has to stand back to palm himself through his jeans. “You...” Stiles starts to chastise but he’s too charmed by Derek’s little smirk. 

He digs his keys out of his pocket and unlocks the passenger door for Derek. Stiles moves to the driver’s side and finds that Derek’s already leaned across to unlock the door for him. He smiles at the small, thoughtful gesture. Stiles hops in and buckles up.

“You know, modern cars have automatic door locks.” Derek lifts a quizzical eyebrow. “Some of them even have keyless entry.”

Stiles flirts back, “But where’s the opportunity for chivalry in that, dude?”

Derek laughs, and Stiles feels warm all over from the rich sound of it. He hasn’t known Derek for long, but already he’s getting used to seeing the side of him Stiles knows Derek keeps hidden from most people. He feels lucky to be one of the few people Derek can let his guard down around.

“Hey, where’s the Porsche?” Derek asks as they wind their way back down from the park.

“Returned safely to the rental company. Why, did you want to take a spin in it?”

“Nah, just wanted to see you in it, I guess.”

“Really?” Stiles squawks. He can feel his cheeks turning red. He’s not used to people like Derek flirting and complimenting him. A part of him had always felt like Danny was out of his league, and he never understood what Heather saw in him when he was a scrawny teenager.

Derek reaches over and puts his warm hand on Stiles’ thigh. “You’re not getting shy on me, are you?”

Stiles shrugs a shoulder and turns to look at Derek when he pulls up to a stoplight. “I’m not used to, you know...” he trails off, embarrassed and unsure of himself.

Derek looks back at him intently. “If I haven’t made it clear yet, I really like you, Stiles.”

Stiles lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding back. He can’t help it if he preens a bit. “It’s nice to hear, even if I don’t completely understand it.”

Derek looks at him earnestly. “I’m not good at expressing myself, but I’ll try for you.”

Stiles feels such affection for Derek, and it’s comforting to know the feeling is mutual after so much uncertainty. “It’s okay. We’ve all got something we’re working on, right?”

Derek nods. 

“You’ve got the whole communicating thing, and I’ve got the self-esteem issues.” Stiles shoots Derek a tentative glance as he picks up speed again, heading for the Hollywood hills.

A minute later Derek reaches over and grabs Stiles’ hand, he kisses his knuckles. Stiles is taken aback by it. He’s craved that kind of simple affection his whole life, and somehow Derek’s giving it to him like it costs him nothing. It feels too good to be true. Stiles drives the rest of the way back to his place on auto-pilot. He has a one track mind, and the only thing that’s going to satisfy him is getting his hands back on Derek. 

Somehow they move from the driveway to the house without tripping over each other. It’s a miracle really because they don’t stop kissing or touching each other. Once inside the door there are limbs tangled up in clothes. They toss shirts off in the hallway, and kick shoes and toe socks off just inside the bedroom door. Stiles pauses stripping only long enough to pull the covers back on the bed and throw the decorative pillows somewhere toward the chaise lounge in the corner. Derek grabs him by the belt loops and starts undoing his pants. He pushes them past his hips and Stiles shimmies out of them the rest of the way. 

Stiles falls back onto the bed, his legs still hanging off the edge. Derek stands between his legs and the look he gives Stiles is predatory. Whatever nerves Stiles had are gone; from the look on Derek’s face, the way his eyes focus in on Stiles' body, it’s clear he’s not disappointed. Emboldened, Stiles sits up on his elbows and looks Derek over, taking in every inch of his bare torso. He’s tan and muscular, but not in a way that speaks of excessive vanity. His chest hair looks soft, and the trail of hair leading into Derek’s slacks makes Stiles’ mouth water. Stiles wants to taste his skin, feel the weight of his hard body between his legs. 

Stiles leans up further and reaches out for Derek’s belt. He looks up from under his lashes and licks his lips. “This okay?” It’s not tentative or shy, he’s just making sure that Derek is still on the same page as him.

Derek nods his head and swallows. Derek’s hands meet Stiles’ at his fly. Derek unzips himself and Stiles pushes his slacks and briefs down. Derek’s already hard cock springs free and Stiles whines at the sight. He’s about to abandon Derek’s pants just below the curve of his ass in favor of burying his face in the sharp jut of Derek’s hips when Derek kicks them off and climbs onto the bed, covering Stiles entirely with his warm body. Stiles shudders at the feeling of skin on skin.

“Stiles,” Derek says, but it’s more of a moan. 

Derek ruts against Stiles and kisses his neck. Stiles tips it back even further to give Derek better access. Derek sighs into the delicate skin over Stiles’ clavicle. He nips and kisses alternating between soft and gentle and biting and playful. Stiles doesn’t want him to stop; he likes the helpless noises Derek’s making, and encourages him by carding his fingers through the hair at Derek’s nape.

“Stiles,” Derek begins again, like he can’t keep his train of thought. “You taste and smell so good. Like you’re mine.”

Stiles can’t help the smile and the smug feeling coursing through him. He’s never been so close to feeling confident. Derek makes him feel _wanted_ , and it’s both exciting and terrifying.

Derek stops his ministrations and looks up at Stiles, his pupils blown wide. “Cocky much?”

Stiles smiles. “I thought you said it’s rude to read humans’ emotions with your werewolfy senses?”

Derek’s hair is a mess and his mouth is red and debauched from kissing. He smirks and it’s the cutest thing Stiles has ever seen. 

“It’s rude, yeah. I never said I didn’t do it.”

Stiles laughs. “Oh yeah?”

Derek reaches down between them and encircles both of their dicks in his hand. He gives them both a torturously slow pump. Derek’s foreskin eases the way for him, but Stiles needs lube if they’re going to get off together. 

“Bedside table,” he says with a groan. Stiles reaches an arm out, and Derek rolls off of him to give him better mobility. Stiles retrieves the bottle and settles back on the bed into a more comfortable position. “Ready.” Stiles reaches out to bring Derek back on top of him.

Rather than rolling back on top of Stiles, Derek slides down further on the bed and positions himself between Stiles’ legs. He kisses Stiles knees, and Stiles laughs at that.

“What are you doing? Where are you going?” Stiles whines.

“I want to taste you before lube,” Derek says as he lowers his face inches above Stiles’ crotch.

“Fuck,” Stiles curses in anticipation.

“Later,” Derek says just before he takes Stiles into his mouth.

Stiles wants to laugh at this flirtatious, sentimental, and playful Derek, but he can’t. Stiles feels like he’s going to come in an embarrassingly short amount of time and has to take several deep breaths to steady himself. Derek’s mouth is perfect heat and suction around his dick. He swirls his tongue around the head, and then slides it down toward the base. Stiles feels his hips lift up involuntarily, his cock hitting the back of Derek’s throat. Derek moans around his length and the vibrations combined with the sight of Derek’s lips wrapped around him push Stiles closer to the edge. It’s too fast; Stiles wants this to last. He wants more than anything for them to come at the same time.

“Derek, Derek, Derek,” Stiles tries to warn him. He shifts his hips so he can withdraw from Derek’s mouth. This seems to displease Derek, so he uses his forearm to hold Stiles hips down and keeps bobbing his head. His superior strength renders Stiles powerless, all he can do is lie there prone while Derek pulls the orgasm out of him with his mouth.

Stiles comes with a shout, his body tensing and shaking. Derek seems to delight in swallowing what he can. Stiles can feel his cock pulsating against Derek’s tongue. When Stiles becomes too sensitive, Derek pulls off of him, come and saliva dribbling out of his mouth down his chin, some puddling on Stiles’ stomach. They’re both breathing hard and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Stiles closes his eyes and gives a shaky exhale. He’s surprised then by the feeling of Derek lapping up the come from Stiles’ happy trail with his tongue. 

“Kinky fucker,” Stiles jokes, but Derek just smiles and keeps licking enthusiastically. Stiles can’t help it if he imagines future blow jobs from Derek. He wants to see what he looks like with his hot white come covering his beard. When Derek’s satisfied, he stretches out next to Stiles and smiles.

Stiles reaches out to touch Derek’s straining erection. The head is exposed, red and angry looking, neglected while Derek went down on Stiles. Stiles rubs his thumb over the tip, drawing a few beads of precome from him. Derek’s hips jerk and he lets out a moan. He’s seeking more friction from Stiles, so Stiles wraps his hand around Derek’s dick and drags his foreskin back up and down. Derek throws a hand over his eyes, so caught up in the sensation of Stiles’ hands on him. Derek still hasn’t spoken, not since he teased Stiles, but the room isn’t exactly silent. Derek keeps making these little choked noises, like he’s fighting his own pleasure. Stiles is entranced by the sight of this gorgeous man writhing in his bed.

Stiles leans over further to capture Derek’s lips in a kiss. He speeds up the pace of his fist and fucks his tongue into Derek’s mouth. The sound of Derek’s orgasm is muffled by Stiles’ mouth. Derek’s hips bow off the mattress as he comes over Stiles’ hand, shooting up towards his abdomen. Stiles works him gently through his release, then brings his hand to his own mouth tentatively. Stiles waits until he’s sure Derek’s watching him, then he proceeds to lick Derek’s come from his own fingers. It’s warm, salty, and a little bitter, not something he usually feels strongly about.

Derek moans again. “Your fucking mouth. God, and your hands. Your arms,” Derek says as if he’s making perfect sense.

Stiles looks over at him, and feels powerful knowing how much Derek is getting off on this. He lets his tongue hang out in mid-lick.

“Do you ever close your mouth?” Derek asks like it’s personally offended him.

“Huh?” is all Stiles manages.

“Your mouth is obscene. And your fingers,” Derek explains by taking one into his own mouth, sucking it down.

“My mouth is obscene?” Stiles counters. “What about what yours was doing like five minutes ago. I was too busy coming my brains out to be embarrassed that I lasted all of two seconds. You give head like a champ.”

Derek doesn’t really respond, just sucks another finger into his mouth.

“You like these skinny guys?” Stiles wiggles the fingers on his other hand.

Derek pull off with a pop and nods. “And your arms.” He kisses Stiles’ hairy forearm and the veiny underside of his wrist. 

Stiles feels himself flush, color in his cheeks and heat along the side of his neck, right down to the center of his chest where he has a tuft of hair.

“What happened to you being cocky?” Derek asks as he kisses a path down Stiles’ body, his lips hitting all the places Stiles is red.

Stiles shrugs modestly. 

Derek sits up slightly and looks at Stiles with an intensity that kind of bowls Stiles over. “You need me to tell you how I stood outside your dressing room that first day? I could smell sex on you, like you jerked off just before we met up. I knew you were naked, separated from me by just a flimsy curtain.”

Stiles groans and can feel his cock starting to stir again.

“You want me to tell you that I didn’t like Caitlin picking out your clothes? That I was the one that picked out what you wore? I picked what I thought you’d look best in, something that showed off your assets?” Derek says into the skin on Stiles neck. He catches his silver chain in his mouth, mimicking the way Stiles often plays with it when he’s nervous. “Because I can. If that’s what will make you believe that I want this. Want you.”

Stiles doesn’t have Derek’s werewolf senses to tell if he’s lying, but he wants to believe the honesty he hears in Derek’s voice, his ragged want is insatiable even after their mutual orgasms. They spend the rest of the night kissing and talking, exploring each other’s bodies with their mouths and hands. The bottle of lube is abandoned on the bedside table, but neither of them go to sleep left wanting.

***

Stiles wakes before Derek, his body a little sore from the previous night’s activities, but warm from the werewolf cuddling him fiercely. It’s a nice contrast to the last time he and Derek shared his bed. He smiles to himself and nuzzles into Derek’s temple. Derek doesn’t seem to register the soft morning light filtering in through the curtains, just gives a little snuffle and strengthens his hold around Stiles’ middle. Stiles craves his morning coffee, but it’s barely seven and it feels nice to be held, so he grabs his phone from the bedside table and starts looking at his messages.

There are a few texts from Scott, and it’s Stiles’ turn in the Words with Friends game with his dad. His dad must have had a slow night on shift; he texted around midnight, probably suspicious about what could be keeping Stiles from taking his turn immediately.

 **Dad:** Haven’t heard from you. Check in with your old man, would you?

Stiles grins and taps out a reply without thinking.

 **Stiles:** Sorry, I got busy last night. 

He blushes at the unintended double entendre.

 **Stiles:** How was your shift? Uneventful, hopefully.

 **Dad:** Just heading home. By the way, I see what you did there.

 **Stiles:** What?

 **Dad:** You’re deflecting.

Stiles breaks out into a broad smile. It feels like his face is going to crack in half.

 **Stiles:** Who me?

 **Dad:** You sound smug. 

**Stiles:** I don’t know what you’re talking about.

 **Dad:** Call me when he leaves. 

**Stiles:** DAAAAAD

 **Dad:** Be safe. 

**Stiles:** STOP IT.

 **Dad:** Use a rubber.

 **Stiles:** I’M TAKING YOU TO THE NEW VEGAN PLACE FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY.

 **Dad:** Oh good, it’s been a while since I’ve had vegetables.

Stiles snorts. There’s that Stilinski humor.

 **Stiles:** Love you, pops. Get some sleep.

Stiles yawns, the pull of slumber too strong to ignore. He puts his phone back down and turns toward Derek. Stiles kisses his parted lips and Derek kisses back but doesn’t wake. Stiles just watches the beautiful man next to him and rubs the stubble on his cheek tenderly until he drifts back to sleep.

* * *

It’s almost noon when Derek wakes up, the scene all too familiar. Someone’s phone is ringing, and he’s betting money on it being Erica. Derek grunts but makes no move toward answering the phone. 

“I think your pants are ringing,” Stiles supplies helpfully.

Derek rolls over onto his back and yawns. He mutters something incoherent about letting the phone go to voicemail. The phone does eventually stop ringing, but then picks up again a minute later. The last thing Derek wants to do is talk to Erica about his disaster of a date with Lydia, or on the off chance it’s one of his nosy sisters, have an awkward conversation while lying in bed next to Stiles.

Derek turns toward Stiles who smiles fondly at him. Derek’s too sleep stupid to do anything but rub his eyes. He almost can’t believe his luck to wake up next to Stiles. Derek’s used to one night stands with guys whose names he barely remembers in the morning. Sometimes there isn’t even the pretense of sleeping over, just an anonymous hookup in a bathroom stall. A few guys have lasted a couple of weeks, but Derek would eventually come to his senses. None of them were with him for the right reasons, and Derek knew they were nothing more than a means of getting off. Derek convinced himself that he prefered being alone, and sleeping around just staved off loneliness. Waking up next to Stiles though makes him look forward to building something more, something that can really last.

Stiles crawls out of the covers and hangs off the edge of the mattress to snag the phone out of Derek’s pants haphazardly strewn near the foot of the bed. Derek is mesmerized by the sight of Stiles’ lean back scattered with freckles and his perfect ass. It’s shapely--round and firm, the skin creamy and smooth. Stiles turns his head to look at Derek and catches him raking his eyes over his naked body. Stiles gives him a cheeky snort, but Derek can smell his embarrassment. He’s still unused to Derek’s gaze on him, but Derek has no intention of letting him go unappreciated.

“Come here,” Derek commands in a sleep rough voice.

Stiles scoots back toward Derek and hands him his phone. Derek only checks it to make sure it’s not a family emergency. Derek smiles when he sees the two missed calls. 

“Who was it?” Stiles asks as he tucks his head under Derek’s chin, pulling the the sheets around them.

Derek kisses him chastely on the forehead. “One from Cora and another from Malia.”

“I thought maybe it would be Erica.”

“Me too.”

They lay in silence for a while, just holding on to each other.

“So, about last night,” Stiles starts.

Derek hears his tremulous voice, so he does the first thing he can think of and silences Stiles with a kiss. It’s not the best angle, and they both have a weird combination of the lingering taste of sex and morning breath. But it’s still a damn good kiss and leaves them both breathless. 

When they finally pull apart, Derek looks into Stiles’ eyes and tries to let him see what Derek sees--the potential for this to be something lasting, the kind of happy ending both of them were looking for when they enlisted Erica’s services. “Last night was amazing, but--”

Stiles interrupts him, “There’s a but,” he says breathily.

Derek shakes his head and kisses Stiles’ upturned nose. “ _But_ I think today is going to be even better.”

Stiles looks relieved.

“I wish you wouldn’t doubt me.” Derek kisses Stiles’ hand next. “Us,” he risks. 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles begins, “I think I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop or for you to come to your senses.”

Derek’s heart hurts for Stiles. He looks small in Derek’s arms now, like he’s shrinking away, trying not to take up too much space. Derek wants to make that hurt go away, push away those voices that feed his insecurity. But more pressing is the loud rumble coming from his stomach.

“Breakfast?” Stiles offers.

“Check the clock,” Derek teases.

“Hey, first meal of the day means it’s breakfast.”

“I guess that’s true.” Derek yawns again.

“You can’t still be tired.” Stiles rolls out of bed and bends down to dig around in a drawer for clothes. 

Derek admires him from the bed. He can’t wait to ravish him again, kiss and taste every inch of skin until he’s memorized every beauty mark, mole, freckle, and scar. Stiles tosses him the same pair of sweatpants and t-shirt that Derek wore just a couple of days ago, and puts on a pair of PJ pants and t-shirt. 

“I think I’m actually tired from too much sleep. I’ll be yawning and sleepy all day.” Derek gets out of bed and shakes out his stiff limbs before getting dressed.

“Well, I’ll just have to make you a double espresso and a protein power breakfast.”

“I am going to need the energy for later,” Derek hints suggestively.

Stiles smirks from the doorway. “Oh, why’s that? You planning on a big workout later?”

“Yeah, the cardio we’re going to do in bed,” Derek calls out as he heads to the ensuite bathroom. Derek can hear Stiles chuckling all the way to the kitchen, and it puts a stupid grin on his face. 

When Derek joins Stiles in the kitchen, he feels another shift in Stiles’ mood. He’s not quite as affectionate, maybe even a little distant. Derek tries not to read too much into it. It’s possible that Stiles just needs time to adjust to Derek being in his space. The brunch they cook up is quick and tasty, a pile of scrambled eggs and bacon, whole wheat toast, and some strawberries. Stiles uses his fancy machine to make double cappuccinos, and they eat out on his patio. Derek tries to coax Stiles into a conversation about their trip to the UK, but he seems skittish. Derek knows how intense he can be when it comes to travel planning, so he lays off. After they both read the funnies and the business section of the paper they head toward Stiles’ massive shower. 

They take their time getting cleaned up, washing away their combined scent from the night before. Derek tries to play it cool, but he’s pretty much helplessly gone on Stiles. He wants to put his hands all over him, so he grabs the soap and does just that. Derek pays extra attention to Stiles’ dick. Stiles finally seems to relax a little more and let’s Derek manhandle him.

When they’re both finally clean, Stiles says tentatively, “Do you want…” but he doesn’t finish his sentence.

Derek has a hard time reading him, so he relies on his wolf senses. Underneath Stiles’ fresh and watery scent is the pungent tang of nerves. Derek moves to reassure him. “I just want you,” Derek whispers against the shell of his ear.

Stiles shivers even though the water is still coming out hot from three different showerheads. “Show me.” He turns off the water and grabs a fluffy towel to hold in front of himself like some sort of shield.

Derek takes the towel and focuses on drying Stiles off before he starts on himself. When they leave the bathroom, Stiles perches on the edge of the bed. Derek notices the contradiction--Stiles is both pushing for sex, but he’s also reticent, almost timid. Derek feels torn; he wants Stiles badly, but he also wants their relationship to be more than just something physical. So Derek slips back on the sweats from before and grabs clean clothes for Stiles. He lays them out in a pile next to him, and runs his hand through Stiles’ damp hair before leaning against the door frame to give Stiles some space.

“Aren’t we going to, you know, fuck?” Stiles question comes out harsh.

Derek huffs. “You know, despite how I acted last night, I'm in this for more than the sex. I really do like you, Stiles, and I want to stick around. And not just for the physical stuff, if that’s okay.” He crosses his arms in front of his body and braces himself. “I mean, if it’s not, just say so and I’ll call a cab.”

Stiles deflates a little. “No, I want you to stay.” His voice sounds small. “I just didn’t want you to feel obligated or something. We kind of rushed into things, and I don’t want you to feel like I’m keeping you hostage here.” He looks down at a spot on the carpet.

Derek considers where Stiles is coming from for a moment. “Would it make you feel better if I went back to the hotel for my car?” he offers.

“And regular clothes?” Stiles looks back up tentatively.

Derek smiles. “Sure.”

“Not that I don’t love you commando in my sweats.” Stiles tries to change the tone from somber to playful.

Derek rubs himself through the thick cotton and quirks an eyebrow at Stiles and hopes it comes off as flirtatious but non-threatening. 

“Knock it off,” Stiles counters. He stands up from the bed and starts putting on the jeans and t-shirt Derek picked out for him. “Come on, I’ll drive you back to your hotel and you can get some of your things.”

Derek changes back into his rumpled clothes from his date, and within the hour he’s leaving his hotel room with clean clothes and a small bag of overnight essentials. Derek follows Stiles back to his place in the Tesla. If Derek is unwelcome, Stiles doesn’t say anything. 

They spend the afternoon on the couch watching _Bob’s Burgers_ on Netflix and making out like a couple of teenagers. It’s mostly innocent. Derek’s body is absolutely ready for Stiles, but he’s patient and doesn’t push sex. Stiles seems relieved, or at least less worried than before. Derek suspects it’s Danny that’s holding Stiles back, or some other old wound that hasn’t quite healed. Derek understands what that’s like, how past hurt can keep you from a chance at happiness again, even if it’s sitting on your couch. So Derek waits.

* * *

Stiles tries to relax on the couch with Derek, but after a while he gets antsy, like he’s too big for his skin. He decides he needs a project, which is how he ends up in his Jeep headed toward the grocery store to pick up a few things for dinner. Derek asked if he could tag along, but Stiles insisted he catch up on the last two episodes of _Bob’s Burgers_ so they can watch the the most recent season together. 

Stiles connects his bluetooth headset and dials Scott.

“What up, man?” Scott asks after the second ring. “I haven’t heard from you since your date with Allison.”

“Yeah, I got hung up,” Stiles offers vaguely.

“With Derek,” Scott sing-songs.

Stiles says nothing. He just wants the familiar comfort of Scott on the other end of the line.

“Stiles? Everything okay?”

Stiles lets out a shaky breath and feels the pin prick of tears.

“You’re freaking me out. Where are you?”

“Driving. I’m fine. I just…” Stiles takes another breath and bats at the tears in his eyes. “I just had to get out of there.”

“Where?”

“The house. Derek’s there and--”

“Did Derek hurt you?” Scott demands.

“No, God no. It’s nothing like that. I’m just--”

“Panicking,” Scott says.

Stiles nods his head even though he knows Scott can’t see him. He clears his throat, but goes quiet again. Scott waits. When Stiles pulls into the parking lot and the Jeep is turned off he begins again, “Last night, we, well, we were _together_.”

“Was it not good?” Scott asks.

“It was great,” Stiles can hear the surprise in his own voice. “It was, I don’t know, perfect.”

“Okay,” Scott says after a beat.

“And in the morning he was still there, and he was so cute and sweet. He said and did all the right things.” Stiles’ voice goes up a notch.

“And that’s a problem because?”

“I don’t know, Scott, it just is.”

Scott doesn’t say anything for a while. “Stiles, do you think maybe you’re just overthinking things?”

“No.” Stiles scowls.

“Because you have a tendency to do that.”

“I’m going to get too attached and he’s going to get sick of me. You know I always do this.”

“Stiles, you’ve been spending all of your time with him the past few days. I don’t think he’s going to get sick of you.”

“That is precisely why he’s going to get sick of me. I’m revealing all my little annoying idiosyncrasies too early in the relationship.”

“Dude, Derek’s a werewolf.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” Stiles doesn’t care if he sounds obtuse.

“Werewolves aren’t quick to warm up to people, especially not born wolves. I think you need to face facts: Derek really likes you.”

Stiles guffaws. “You have to say that because you’re my best friend.”

“Stiles, you’re an idiot.”

“Hey!”

“As your alpha, I command you to stop freaking out. Go back to your house and talk to him.”

“No.”

“Seriously?” Scott snorts.

“Okay, fine. But only because I sort of promised to make him dinner.”

“Aw, cute.”

“Stop it,” Stiles says as he climbs out of his Jeep.

“Stiles and Derek sitting in tree,” Scott singsongs again.

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Text me updates.”

“Ugh, fine,” Stiles says with affection.

He ends the call as he walks into the market. He grabs a cart and makes quick work of picking up the stuff for dinner. He gets steaks to grill, russets for baked potatoes and all the fixings for them, and stuff for a salad. Stiles decides that he might as well restock on other essentials too. He’s not stalling, he’s just thinking ahead. He peruses the aisles again and throws in a couple boxes of cereal, some of the sugary kinds he likes and then some that are high in fiber and likely Derek-approved. He returns to the dairy section for milk and eggs. Even though the line is long in the deli section, Stiles takes a number and waits his turn for the good bacon, and several types of lunch meats and cheeses. He gets held up in the chip and ice cream sections, comparing prices and ingredients until he just dumps in too many bags of Kettle Chips and multiple tubs of Ben & Jerry’s. For Derek’s sake he grabs a package of chicken and some more veggies and fruit. There’s enough food to feed a pack of wolves, but Stiles used to be a Boy Scout (for all of a year in the third grade) and isn’t the motto something like _always be prepared_?

After Stiles pays and heads back out to his Jeep, he turns on his bluetooth headset again to call his dad.

“Hey, kiddo,” he answers on the third ring. 

“Hi, Dad.”

“Derek finally gone?”

“Actually, he’s sort of back at the house waiting for me.” Stiles blushes. Even though his dad has long since realized Stiles is a grown up, Stiles is still embarrassed to be talking about his more adult activities.

“Huh.” He clears his throat. “I guess it’s going okay then?”

“I don’t know. I kind of had a little freak out earlier,” Stiles admits. “I talked to Scott though, and that helped.” Stiles starts loading his groceries into the back of the Jeep.

“How are you feeling now?” His dad isn’t particularly nosey, but Stiles can hear the concern in his voice.

“Nervous, like I want to run,” he admits.

“Stiles.” Dad’s voice sounds thick with emotion, like he’d reach out and pull Stiles in for a bone crushing hug if he was there in person. “You know,” he begins, “it’s okay to be afraid. If it didn’t matter, you wouldn’t care this much.”

Stiles leans against the back of the Jeep. “What if I’m afraid I care too much already?”

“Maybe you should let Derek decide what’s too much.”

Stiles grumbles as he he pushes his empty cart back toward the return area.

“You’re not going to run, are you?”

Stiles laughs. “It would be pretty hard since the only place I have to go to is my house and Derek’s waiting for me on the couch.”

“Well, I’ll let you get back to him then.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Stiles starts to buckle up.

“Call me later.”

“Will do. Bye.” Stiles disconnects and feels more settled than he has all day.

***

When Stiles arrives home with more groceries than he can carry in one trip, Derek is sitting on the couch with the TV off and an iPad in his lap. He looks up at Stiles laden with bags. “Can I help?” he asks tentatively.

Stiles nods and leaves the door open Derek. “The trunk is unlocked.”

Derek gives him a forced grin and heads outside. He says nothing about Stiles’ hour-long errand.

Stiles starts unpacking groceries, setting aside the items they’ll need for dinner, and lining the rest up on the counter near the fridge and dry goods pantry. Derek returns with the rest of the bags and waits for directions. 

Stiles points to the potatoes near the sink. “I was thinking baked potatoes on the grill with steak? Want to wash and dry those for me? I do them up with butter and salt and wrap them in foil.”

Derek nods and moves toward the sink. Once the water is on and he’s scrubbing the potatoes down, he looks over his shoulder at Stiles who's watching him. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to come back.”

Stiles deflates, and moves next to Derek to lean against the counter. “I had a little freak out.”

“I figured.”

“I called Scott and my dad and they both chewed me out and told me to stop being such a chicken.”

“What’s got you feeling, I don’t know, afraid? Is it something I did?” Derek’s voice sounds small, like he’s too used to taking on more than his share of the blame in relationships.

Stiles lets out a shaky breath. “God, no. You’ve been perfect--”

“I’m not perfect, Stiles,” Derek interrupts him but doesn't raise his voice.

“Fine, nearly perfect. You’ve been...just...everything. It’s been great.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Derek turns the water off and dries his hands on a dishtowel. 

“It’s going to sound stupid.”

“I promise it won’t.”

Stiles can’t have this conversation standing so close to Derek. He needs his hands busy, he needs someplace else to look. He takes the potatoes and moves down a foot to start preparing them for the grill. “I feel like you could be the one.” He rips two sheets of foil off the roll and lines them up. He hears the way Derek’s breath catches and he can feel the back of his neck turning red from embarrassment. 

“I’m not sure how that’s a problem. I already said I want this to be something serious--”

Stiles cuts him off, “You can’t be the one. Not right now. No one ever meets anyone worth being with straight after a bad break up.” He pricks the potatoes aggressively with a fork. “At best you’re going to be a rebound, and I really don’t want you to be my rebound.”

Derek stands there slackjawed. 

“And from the sound of it, it’s been a while since you’ve been in a serious relationship.”

Derek moves toward the pile of groceries that need to be put away. He examines them for a moment and then starts opening doors and guessing at where things belong. All the while he keeps his mouth shut.

“What we both need is to date other people before we can even begin a successful relationship with each other.”

Derek stuffs food into the fridge and then slams the door shut. “You’re telling me that even though we’ve already been, you know, _together_ , we have to stop and see other people?”

Stiles screws up his face at hearing it put so bluntly. 

“All so that we’re not each other’s rebounds?”

Stiles turns toward Derek. “I mean, when you put it like that it sounds--”

“Crazy?” Derek snarks.

Stiles sighs and refocuses his attention back on the food prep. He grabs the butter and slathers it on the potatoes. “It wouldn’t be for long.” Stiles attempts to pick up the salt with his slippery fingers. 

Derek steps in, swats at his hand, and grabs the salt grinder. He twists the grinder a few times over each potato and then wraps the foil around them tightly. Stiles rinses his hands and when he turns back around Derek is shaking his head. 

“Stiles, I refuse to believe that what I’m feeling are rebound feelings. This is absurd, I don’t want to date anyone else. I already tried that, and so did you. We both went on dates we didn’t want to go on with Allison and Lydia.” Derek starts pacing. “And for that matter, we had like ten dates at the mixer.”

“That doesn’t count--”

Derek silences him with a deadly look. “That absolutely counts. We got dressed up, there were drinks, forced conversations, and too much sexual innuendo for my liking. Sounds like every bad date I’ve ever had.”

Stiles feels conflicted--both triumphant and defeated all at once. On the one hand, it means that maybe his relationship with Derek isn’t doomed; on the other hand, it means Stiles actually has to try and have an adult relationship with Derek. “What if we do this and it doesn’t work out?” Stiles can barely get the words out.

Derek shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know, Stiles. I wish I knew I could be certain too, but I don’t think that’s how things work.”

“I’m just not ready to get hurt again,” Stiles admits. “I can’t fall in love with someone who isn’t going to love me back.”

Derek steps up to Stiles and cups his face in his warm palms. “I already said I can’t promise how things will turn out, but I can absolutely promise that things won’t fall apart from lack of love.”

“How can you be sure?” Stiles pleads with his eyes.

“Because I already love you,” Derek says it like it’s as easy as breathing. He leans in and kisses Stiles, and silences his fears with a sureness that can’t be questioned.

“Isn’t this too fast?” Stiles asks when he pulls back. 

Derek shakes his head. “We get to set the pace.” He kisses Stiles on the right cheek.

“You’re not going to get sick of me?”

“Nope.” He switches to the left cheek.

“You’re not turned off by all this insecurity.”

“Shhh.” Derek kisses him in the hollow of his throat and scents him. He lets out a moan and continues to nose him up and down the length of Stiles’ neck.

Stiles shifts and brushes up against Derek. He’s a solid wall of heat and muscle and it’s enough to make him forget about the stupid voices in his head that tell him he doesn’t deserve someone like Derek. He trails his hand lower toward Derek’s hips. Derek grinds up against Stiles and for a few minutes they just kiss and dry hump in the kitchen. 

Stiles is so blissed out he doesn’t even recognize his own voice whispering dirty, filthy encouragements to Derek. Derek undoes Stiles’ fly and works a hand in between them. He thumbs at the head and Stiles hisses. It’s dry and a little painful, but it doesn’t stop him from fucking into Derek’s tight grip. When the sensation gets to be too much, he grabs Derek’s hand and brings it to his lips. He watches Derek’s eyes dilate as he licks his palm and pulls two of his fingers into his mouth. Stiles suckles at them and gets them wet with his saliva. Derek pulls his fingers out and Stiles lets them go with a wet pop, the sound echoes in the quiet kitchen. Stiles pushes Derek’s hand back down between them and shows him just how he likes it.

When Stiles is close, just at the brink of coming, Derek pauses. “Are you sure, Stiles?”

“Sure? Sure of what?” Stiles asks, all too willing to say anything Derek needs to hear so he can get off.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Derek speeds up his hand and flicks his thumb over the head a few times to elicit a response.

Stiles’ knees nearly give out. “Fuck yes.”

“What about dinner?”

“Fuck dinner,” Stiles groans as he bucks his hips.

Derek leans down and bites lightly at Stiles’ shoulder, kisses the tender flesh where he used his blunt human teeth. Derek twists his wrist on the upstroke, and combined with the sound of his heavy breathing in Stiles’ ear and the feeling of Derek’s other hand snaking down the back of his briefs, it's enough to send him shuddering through his orgasm. Stiles comes between them, makes a mess on Derek’s stomach. Stiles doesn’t even remember him taking off his shirt, but it’s on the floor by Stiles' feet. “Fuck me. Fuck, Derek,” Stiles says in between panting. 

“Yes, yes, gonna fuck you later. When you’re ready.” Derek goes back to kissing Stiles on his face and neck. It’s almost too tender and sweet considering he just jerked Stiles off in his kitchen.

“Fuck that, I’m ready now,” Stiles insists. He drops to his knees with the intention of grabbing Derek’s shirt to clean him up, but decides to lick him clean instead. 

With the first pass of his tongue on his abs, Derek hisses. “Jesus, your mouth.”

“Kind of occupied right now,” Stiles teases.

“The things you can do with it, the things you say. I can’t--” Derek thrusts his hips forward like he’s aching for Stiles. 

Stiles is a little bit in awe of how Derek has handled everything. He could have taken one good look at Stiles’ baggage and bolted, but he didn’t. He’s still standing there in Stiles’ kitchen looking at him like Stiles is everything he’s always wanted. It’s almost too much for him to comprehend, so he just stops thinking and gives into the feelings of desire.

Stiles tastes himself on Derek’s stomach and does his best to clean him up with little licks in between kissing and nipping at his skin. Stiles noses at the bulge in Derek’s pants, but doesn’t go any faster. He just takes his time working Derek up until he’s whining for more.

“You okay?” Stiles looks up at Derek.

“I’m fine, but I can’t say the same thing about my balls.” He grimaces and adjusts himself in his too tight jeans.

“Do you need some help?” Stiles asks as he undoes the button and lowers the zipper on Derek’s fly. There’s a wet patch on Derek’s boxer briefs, but before Stiles takes him into his mouth he suckles at his still clothed erection. 

Derek’s breathing grows uneven. He clutches at Stiles’ shoulders, gripping hard, like he’s trying and failing to control himself. Finally, something clicks for Stiles. For as many times as Stiles has asked to be fucked, Derek hasn’t just been stalling or placating him--Derek is getting off on the anticipation. If Stiles is surprised by any of his own newly discovered kinks like licking and scenting Derek, he’s even more surprised by Derek’s interest in prolonging the wait for his own pleasure. 

Stiles smirks to himself with his newfound understanding. He continues to focus his attention on Derek’s straining cock, but this time he isn’t rushing to the finish line. He takes his time just breathing along his length, dropping kisses on his hip bones, and nosing his way to the base of Derek’s dick. Derek purrs incoherently, and uses his fingers to rake through Stiles’ hair but never tugs on it. 

Derek shudders and for a second it looks like he’s going to come untouched. Stiles adds that to a list of things he’d like to try in the future. “You still with me, big guy?”

Derek sighs and opens his eyes. “Just barely.”

Stiles chuckles. “Well, you get to choose how this ends.” Stiles pushes Derek’s foreskin up and sucks gently at the tip. “Now, and happily.” He takes Derek fully into his mouth and uses his hand to pump a couple of times then pulls off. “Or later. Also very happily, but maybe with a lot less clothing and on a flat surface.”

Derek shivers and grips himself at the base of his spit slick cock. “Fuck.” He scrubs his face with his other hand and shakes his head like he can’t choose. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this...but, later.”

Stiles tucks Derek back into his briefs and then stands up. “Excellent choice.”

Derek sags against the back of the counter and takes a few calming breaths. “Oh really?” He adjusts himself again and zips and buttons his jeans. 

“Yes, because first I am going to wine and dine you.”

Derek smiles and laughs. “And then?” he flirts back.

“Then we’re going to go to bed. And I’m going to be ready for you,” Stiles says confidently.

“You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.” Stiles grabs onto Derek’s belt loops and steps into his space. “I know I’ve been kind of a mess, but your confidence in us is apparently just the thing I needed."

Derek pulls him closer for another kiss. Stiles is never going to tire of this, the way it feels to have Derek initiate intimacy. It’s a gift, and he doesn’t intend to take it for granted.

***

Stiles grills the steak and potatoes and Derek helps by making the salad. Stiles wasn’t joking when he said he’d wine and dine Derek; he picks a bottle from his small collection and opens it to let it breathe. Stiles doesn’t know much about wine, only that this Cabernet Sauvignon was one of his splurges when he went to Napa Valley with his dad, Melissa, and Scott during Scott’s spring break.

They eat outside on the patio again. Stiles can’t appreciate the gorgeous views or the sunset because his sole focus is on the man sitting across from him. 

“Thanks for cooking for me.” Derek nudges Stiles playfully under the table with his foot.

Stiles locks his leg around Derek’s ankle and smiles. “I have to impress you right now. After we’ve known each other for a while you’ll see me for the lazy bum that I am.”

Derek grabs Stiles’ hand and kisses the top of it. “I don’t believe you.”

Stiles throws his head back and laughs. “Seriously, do you remember what I told you that first day we met?”

Derek furrows his brow in concentration. “You said a lot of things.”

“I told you I’d eaten a box of Lucky Charms marshmallows and a pound of bacon. I had been sitting in my underwear for two days watching shitty shows on Netflix. This,” Stiles points to himself, “this guy who cooks and entertains on his patio and showers daily? He hasn’t made too many appearances lately.”

Derek leans over and kisses Stiles on his jaw. He whispers, “Maybe there hasn’t been much incentive lately, but hopefully that’s going to change.”

They continue to play footsie under the table and in between bites of their food they trade kisses. They’re disgustingly cute and Stiles is just glad they get to be together privately right now. They’re just in the beginning stages of whatever it is they are, and it’s nice not to have added pressure. Luckily, cameras aren’t capturing their every move, and their friends and family aren’t hovering and offering up their opinions on their relationship. 

After they clear the table, they settle down into a one of the patio loveseats with the rest of the bottle of wine. Derek keeps the conversation light, like he’s worried he might screw things up with Stiles. Stiles can’t blame him, he’s been all over the place emotionally. Stiles hasn’t even been able to acknowledge that Derek said he loved him already. It’s weighing on his mind though, the fact that Derek’s ready and willing to jump head first into a relationship with Stiles.

“Hey, thanks for being patient with me,” Stiles says over the rim of his wine glass.

Derek slings an arm around Stiles’ shoulders. “Of course. I think you’re worth it.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything other than sorry for myself. I realize now how incredibly self-indulgent and stupid that sounds,” Stiles admits.

Derek shrugs and makes a noncommittal noise. “You’re just the typical millionaire having an existential crisis because you have too much time and money on your hands.”

“I’m a walking cliche,” Stiles turns his head away to conceal the rising blush on his cheeks.

“Hey,” Derek says and uses a finger to turn Stiles’ face back toward him. “It takes one to know one, okay.”

Stiles scoffs, “Seriously?”

“I think you have this perception of me as some guy who has his shit together.” 

Stiles nods at Derek. “Well, yeah. You have this air about you, I can’t explain it.”

Derek sighs and leans back into the cushions. “I have a few years on you, Stiles, and from what I can tell I have a bigger support system. But everything else considered, I think we’re about even in the baggage department, I’ve just had longer to examine mine.”

Stiles kills the bottle and mulls over what Derek said. Maybe Stiles does have an idealized image of Derek in his head. They don’t know each other all that well, despite having spent the last several days together. “I’m really glad we can be like this together. I’m not sure I was ever this real in my previous relationships.”

Derek squeezes Stiles’ shoulder. “What were you like?”

“I acted like the person I thought they wanted me to be,” Stiles says.

“I don’t want you to be anyone but yourself. I like you the way you’ve been with me.” Derek holds Stiles a little tighter.

“Really? You have a thing for nervous headcases?”

“Maybe.” Derek laughs teasingly.

“Hey, Derek?” 

“Yeah?”

“What are your three non-negotiables?”

Derek shifts on the loveseat a bit and pulls Stiles against his chest. “Seems like ages ago when we met with Erica.”

“Less than a week.”

“I feel like I’ve known you for longer.”

Stiles grins. “I know what you mean.”

“Non-negotiables?” Derek hums. “I think I said something about intelligence, a good sense of humor, and someone family-oriented.”

Stiles kisses the hand Derek’s slung over his shoulder to hide his grin.

“Why, what about you?” Derek asks.

Stiles thinks back to what he told Erica. “I think I asked for someone who’s serious, interested in commitment and family, and someone who could keep up with my personality.”

Derek drops a kiss on the back of Stiles’ neck. “I think we both got what we were looking for, don’t you?”

Stiles grins even harder and feels a rush of affection for Derek. “I’ll try not to let it go to my head,” Stiles teases.

“What do you mean?”

“You think I’m smart and funny,” Stiles crows.

Derek snorts. “I was trying to be polite.”

“Hey!”

“You said it first, I have a thing for nervous headcases.”

“Oh my God. Stop. I said I wanted someone _serious_.”

Derek laughs again and Stiles enjoys the sensation of Derek’s chest rumbling against his back. They sit on the loveseat cuddling, talking about their trip to the UK in the fall, and exchanging stories until the sky is inky black and the half moon is high above them.

* * *

Derek could spend all night under the stars with Stiles, but around ten it starts to get too cold for Stiles to sit outside without a blanket or a jacket. Derek rubs at Stiles’ arms and holds him tighter, but sharing his body heat can only do so much. “Want to go inside?”

“Sure,” Stiles says.

Derek can scent his nervousness. “We don’t have to do anything else tonight.”

“No,” he says in a rush. “I, I want to,” he stammers, “I mean, only if you want to still.”

Derek grabs Stiles' hand and leads him inside. They turn off the lights and lock up the doors along the way, like it’s their nightly routine already. Stiles points Derek toward the guest bathroom, and Derek catches Stiles’ tremulous smile as he retreats toward his bedroom.

Derek gives Stiles a good thirty minutes to freak out and collect himself. Derek spends the time brushing his teeth and flossing. He washes up, unsure of what Stiles expects, but wanting to be considerate and prepared. Derek waits until he hears the water stop running in Stiles’ ensuite bathroom. He figures it’s a good sign when he can’t hear Stiles moving around anymore. 

He knocks on the bedroom door that’s been left ajar. “Can I come in?”

Stiles opens the door all the way. “Of course.”

Derek takes in the sight of Stiles without his shirt and has to restrain himself from pouncing. Stiles has a naturally lean and wiry frame with an impressive shoulder to waist ratio. Derek has fond memories of Stiles’ happy trail and knows exactly what it leads to underneath his clothes.

Stiles starts walking toward the bed. “Are you just going to stand there in the doorway or are you going to come inside?”

Derek doesn’t need to be told twice; he walks over the threshold and follows Stiles toward the bed. “We never really talked about…” he trails off. “I shouldn’t assume I know what you want or what you like. I mean, I'm versatile."  
Stiles smiles at Derek, and really the only way to describe it is coquettish. “I like it all too, but tonight I think I really need you to fuck me.”

Derek’s brain goes offline for a second. He likes Stiles for a lot of reasons, but this is the Stiles that drives him wild--the one that says exactly what he wants and doesn’t hold back.

Stiles undoes his pants and lets them fall to the floor. “Make me stop thinking, okay?”

Derek lunges forward and attacks Stiles’ mouth with his own. They tumble down onto the bed with Stiles’ pants around his ankles and Derek still fully clothed. They kiss like they can’t get enough of each other, like they have something to prove, and maybe they do. Derek wants to show Stiles how much he wants him; he wants to erase all of his insecurities. Stiles seems to want to prove how ready he is for Derek, how ready he is to take their physical intimacy to the next level. Stiles works Derek to the edge quickly by rutting up against him, exposing the long line of his neck, and making keening noises every time Derek sucks on his pulse point.

Stiles stops abruptly to kick his jeans off the rest of the way. He reaches into the bedside table and takes out a condom and the bottle of lube they never ended up using the night before. Stiles wriggles out of his boxer briefs and strokes his dick slowly. Stiles opens the bottle and drizzles the liquid onto two of his fingers. Derek is transfixed; his breath hitches when Stiles lowers his hand and lets his knees fall open. Stiles stares back at Derek to catch his reaction--Derek bites his lower lip--he’s not used to feeling like his pleasure and enjoyment really matter to his partner. Sex has also never left him feeling so open and exposed before. 

Stiles brushes a finger between his cheeks, and that’s all it takes to spur Derek into action. He’s there between Stiles’ legs prepping him, adding his own fingers one at a time, stretching him gently. They kiss and use too much tongue; their teeth clack together a few times from lack of finesse. Stiles experimentally gropes Derek’s ass, tweaks his sensitive nipples, and jacks Derek’s cock until he’s painfully hard. Everything feels a little bit frenzied, but it’s perfect in its own way. After Stiles assures Derek that he’s ready, Derek pulls back and works a condom over his sensitive dick and slicks himself up.

Derek rearranges their bodies on the bed, then he embraces Stiles from behind and aligns their hips. Stiles positions one knee up, and Derek’s drapes his body over him. Derek kisses the Stiles’ neck until he relaxes and he’s breathing heavily, rutting back against Derek with his ass. It’s almost too much for Derek to handle. 

“I don’t know how you have this much patience,” Stiles whines.

Derek grinds his hips down. “What makes you think I’m patient?”

Stiles reaches behind him and spreads his cheeks. “The fact that you’re not already in me.”

Derek tilts Stiles head back a few inches to kiss his jaw, the angle is awkward but he just wants to see as much of Stiles’ face as he can as he pushes just the tip of his cock into him.

“Fuck,” Stiles says with an exhale as Derek pushes the rest of the way inside.

Derek moans and calls upon every deity he knows of to keep himself from coming instantly. Stiles has worked him up a few times throughout the day, and the sensations are just too much. When Stiles starts to grow restless, Derek finally begins to move. His thrusts are shallow at first, teasing at what’s to come. He circles his hips and tries different rhythms. Derek focuses on getting Stiles off first, because if he doesn’t concentrate he won’t last more than a minute. When Stiles starts to babble encouragingly he knows he’s hitting the right place. Derek keeps fucking Stiles at that pace until he bows his back and let’s out a string of curses. Derek can tell he’s close so he reaches a hand around to get ahold of Stiles’ dick. He’s slick with precome, and it’s just a matter of seconds before Stiles’ hips stutter and he’s coming. Derek keeps driving into him and nearly loses all control. Stiles urges him on with more obscenities and then Derek just lets go completely. His orgasm hits and the intensity of it surprises him, he feels wrung out. 

Even though they’re both out of breath, and the angle is awkward, they keep kissing. Right now all that matters is keeping full body contact. They stay that way until their sweat and come starts to cool and it becomes uncomfortable. When Derek eases out of Stiles, he whines at the loss. Derek ties off the condom, wraps it in a tissue, and tosses it in the general direction of the silly decorative trash can that probably came with the house. Stiles rolls off the bed to clean up. Neither of them speak, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable. Afterward, Derek claims the space to the left of the wet patch and Stiles rolls toward him and rests his head on Derek’s chest. 

“This is nice,” Derek says as he drops a kiss to Stiles’ brow.

Stiles hums and Derek can feel it reverberating through his body.

“The sex was amazing, but yeah, this is nice too,” Stiles finally adds. 

Derek allows himself a smug smile. 

“Hey, Derek?”

“Mmm?”

“‘Bout what you said earlier…” Stiles sounds like he’s about to drift off.

Derek feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest. He dropped the L-word so casually earlier, he assumed Stiles had missed it. Derek swallows hard. “Yeah?”

“Me too. Already love you.”

Derek can’t speak so he just hitches up the sheet and covers both of them with it. He lets the sound of Stiles’ even breathing lull him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title is borrowed from The Echo-Friendly's [Same Mistakes](http://youtu.be/Y2b7FyaynC0).
> 
> As you might have noticed, this work will now have a ninth chapter for the epilogue!


	9. your hands, your heart, your eyes have made me realize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erica and her team debrief with the millionaires and their dates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited epilogue. 
> 
> Again, thank you thank you thank you to my betas, clio-jlh and foreverblue-navy. You two deserve a zillion kudos. Any remaining mistakes are my own damn fault. :)

It’s Monday afternoon after a low-key weekend--well deserved after Erica’s busy week of filming the series and keeping up with her clients. Erica actually kept off her phone and computer after Boyd assured her he had Derek’s date with Lydia covered.

The crew has already been setting up the office for a couple hours already, and Isaac and Boyd are at their desks pretending to do work. Everyone’s microphones are hooked up; they’re just waiting for Erica to make her entrance. Erica checks her lipstick and hair in her compact. She looks refreshed and pretty today. It might be her last chance to make an impression on a certain redhead. Erica traded her signature red and vampy look for something sweeter and more feminine. Her lips are a shocking shade of pink, and she’s wearing a floral dress with a sweetheart neckline. Erica looks down and adjusts her cleavage for the camera. It may be a softer look for her, but she still knows how to deliver sex appeal. She signals to the crew that she’s ready and waits for someone to call action. 

Erica breezes into the office with a sing-song voice, “Hello! How’s everyone doing? Have a nice weekend?”

Isaac and Boyd stand to greet her and come around to her desk as she settles in for the scene.

“I’m doing well, had a nice weekend. Got to hang out with Scott,” Isaac says with a little sigh. 

Erica tries to suppress her giggle. Whenever Isaac talks about Scott he’s got cartoon hearts in his eyes. “Did he say anything about Stiles? I’m dying to hear how his date with Allison went.”

“Not really, but I know Stiles called him for advice.”

“Oh?” Erica wonders what that’s all about, but she’ll find out soon enough. “And you, Boyd?” 

Boyd gives her an impassive grin. Boyd likes to play it cool for the cameras, but Erica knows something is up with her assistant. She can smell the embarrassment on him.

“I may have met someone,” he doesn’t elaborate further.

Erica grins. “Well, I’ll have to pry details out of you later.”

“Much later,” Boyd says emphatically. He stands up and moves toward their kitchenette. “Coffee?” he offers, creating the impression that the scene is happening first thing in the morning.

Erica nods her head at Boyd and smiles at Isaac conspiratorially. “Do you know what this is about?”

“Maybe.” Isaac smiles sheepishly. “Maybe Derek didn’t answer his phone after his date with Lydia.” He waggles his eyebrows. “And just maybe one of Derek’s sisters messaged Boyd on Facebook to find out if he had any info.”

Erica is all at once perplexed and hopeful. Erica was positive that Derek would crash and burn on his date with Lydia, but she can’t deny that she’s been rooting for Derek to take the plunge romantically with a certain someone. 

Boyd comes back in the room with Erica’s coffee. “Black with just a drop of cream.” 

Erica takes a sip and grins. “Which sister?”

“The single one,” Boyd says.

“Her name’s Cora,” Isaac supplies helpfully.

“I’m never telling you anything ever again.” Boyd grumbles at Isaac as he drops down into his chair and crosses his muscular arms.

“Well, what’s the status on my millionaires? Have you both been able to touch base?” Erica exaggerates her impatience. She knows her assistants have scheduled drop-ins with the millionaires later, and they’re going to talk with their dates for the current scene.

“We have. They’re coming in a bit,” Isaac says.

“Allison should be calling from France in just a second,” Boyd says as he turns on their LCD monitor and logs into Skype.

A moment later the tone alerts them of a new call. Erica accepts Allison’s video chat and greets her cheerfully, “Hi, cutie! How are you doing?”

Allison’s connection is pretty clear, there’s only a second or two delay. She smiles wide and shows off her adorable dimples. “Hi, Erica. Hi, Isaac and Boyd!” She gives them all a friendly wave.

Erica catches Isaac blush and feels sympathy for him.

Allison continues, “I’m okay! A little jet lagged, but other than that, I’m just happy to be back in France.”

“Ooh la la!” Erica says and bats her lashes. “So tell me, Allison, how was your date with Stiles? Was my millionaire a perfect gentleman?”

Allison giggles. “He was! He rented this gorgeous old car and brought me flowers. It was such a nice change of pace from the dates I’m used to going on in LA.”

“That’s amazing. I’m so glad Stiles listened to me and stepped up his game.” Erica looks over at her assistant. “Good job, Isaac. All your hard work paid off.” Erica turns her attention back to Allison. “So what did you guys do on your date?” she asks though Erica is the one that set it up for Stiles.

“Stiles arranged for us to have a cooking lesson with a professional chef and then we had drinks and dinner as the sun set.”

“How romantic!” Erica hams it up for the cameras. 

Allison nods and grins.

“The real question is, how did the date end? Did he go in for the kiss?”

Allison gives a lopsided grin. “Well, no. I think we both felt like we’re better off as friends.”

“Aww,” Erica pouts and looks up at her assistants. Isaac looks relieved, but Boyd is nonplussed. 

Allison laughs and smiles again, seemingly not the least bit phased by another romantic misstep. “It’s fine, really. Actually, Stiles said he thought I’d be a good match with his friend, Scott.”

Erica’s eyebrows shoot up and she catches Isaac’s crestfallen face. “Is my little millionaire trying to play cupid?”

“We’ll see when I return in a couple of weeks,” Allison says with a shy smile.

“Well, keep me posted. I’d love a chance to set you up again.” Erica looks up and gives Isaac a wink.

“Thank you, Erica!” Allison blows kisses at the screen. “And thank you, Boyd and Isaac!”

Everyone waves back before Boyd disconnects from Allison.

“Well, that was a surprise,” Erica says to her assistants. “I thought for sure Stiles and Allison would hit it off.”

Boyd gives Erica a look that says she’s not fooling him.

“Did Scott say anything about Allison to you?” she tests Isaac.

Isaac shakes his head and frowns, his curls bouncing around adorably.

Erica returns the frown. “Okay then, next up is Lydia?”

“She’ll be here in a minute. I’ll go meet her in the reception area.” Isaac excuses himself, red splotches high on his cheeks.

Boyd gives Erica a significant look, somehow managing to say more with his face than words could ever express.

Erica waits until the cameras stop rolling. “What?” Erica jumps on the defense.

“I didn’t say anything.” Boyd shrugs his massive shoulders. 

“I didn’t say you did,” Erica retorts.

When Boyd speaks his voice is lower than usual, “But you know he’s sensitive when it comes to Scott. And he has a little crush on Allison.”

“ _He_ can also still hear you!” Isaac calls from the other room.

Erica rolls her eyes. “I don’t know why Isaac hasn’t tried dating Scott.”

Boyd grunts. “Lord knows we’ve heard everything else they’ve tried.”

Erica gives Boyd a cheeky grin. “Maybe Allison is just the addition they need to help them figure things out.”

Boyd raises an eyebrow at her but stays silent. 

There’s a commotion in the reception area that signals Lydia’s arrival. Erica can hear Isaac with some of the crew getting Lydia’s microphone hooked up. Boyd does Erica the courtesy of ignoring her chemosignals--she’s pretty sure she smells of anticipation and lust. Erica hasn’t been able to get Lydia off her mind, not since she called her before Lydia’s date with Derek. Lydia had been difficult and haughty over the phone and Erica couldn’t help herself--she’d been cryptic with the details about Derek’s plans. Whatever happened between them, Erica knows it probably made for great television.

Erica tries her level best not to fiddle with her hair or check her lipstick again while she waits. Erica grabs a pencil out of her desk and starts doodling on a notepad. She needs to keep her hands busy and her mind distracted. It’s not the first time she’s taken an interest in one of her clients or daters, but it’s the first time she’s been compelled to act on her interest. Erica can feel Boyd’s watchful eyes on her.

“What?” she asks, this time more dejected than defensive.

Boyd snorts. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, but I can hear you judging me.” Erica grips the pencil tighter. She can sense Boyd’s smug satisfaction. “Stop it.”

“I’ll stop when you do something about your feelings.”

Erica scoffs, “I don’t have _feelings_.”

“Fine, you have an _itch_ that needs _scratching_ ,” Boyd teases.

Erica snaps her eyes up. “Boyd!” 

He flashes her a rare, toothy grin.

“I love it when you’re into someone,” Erica says.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Boyd shrugs her off.

“I’m talking about this Cora person. Whenever you’re in the beginning stages of a relationship, you’re more playful.”

“You’re just trying to change the subject.” Boyd crosses his legs and sits up straighter.

“Maybe I am, but it’s not any less true.” Erica cocks an eyebrow at him. “Your body language says I’ve struck a nerve.”

A producer interrupts their tête-à-tête and lets them know that Lydia is ready. When the camera starts rolling, Isaac walks in with Lydia trailing right behind him.

“Lydia is here,” he says and pulls out a chair at Erica’s desk for her.

Lydia sits primly on the chair, her hair pulled back into a demure braid to match the simple and chic outfit that’s meant to look like she just threw it together. Erica notices Lydia’s strappy sandals, dressed up shorts, and an asymmetrical top she recognizes from Barney’s. If the effort Lydia put into her appearance is any indication, then maybe Erica’s interest is reciprocated.

Erica let the moment go by, but she stands anyway and reaches across her desk to shake Lydia’s hand. “I’m so glad you could come by,” she says.

Lydia stands again and returns the gesture. “Thanks for having me.”

Erica ignores the looks Boyd and Isaac exchange. “Absolutely. So, tell me how your date went with Derek. I’m dying to know,” she admits.

Lydia rolls her eyes, and purses her lips. “Well, I don’t think it went exactly as he planned.”

“Oh, no!” Erica says in mock surprise. 

“ _Somehow_ I had it in my head that we’d be poolside. My wardrobe choices kind of put a damper on the day.” Lydia purses her lips again, this time harder. 

Erica stifles a grin. She thinks Lydia looks like an adorably pissed off duck. 

“I will say, however, that Derek was a gentleman throughout. He could have gotten impatient with me, but he never did. He even gave me a foot massage,” Lydia explains.

“Derek’s a stand up kind of guy,” Boyd interjects.

“He is, I can tell,” Lydia agrees.

“And you didn’t feel any sparks?” Erica asks hopefully.

“Definitely not. I think we’re just too different.”

“I knew it.” Erica smiles self-righteously. “Derek wants someone who’s going to be around, who’s ready to settle down.”

“I think my career puts me on a different path from him. I do want to fall in love,” Lydia says, “but I’m not willing to let myself be tied down by a relationship right now.”

“You need someone who’s confident enough to give you the space you need, someone else who’s ambitious and also has a lot on their plate. Someone who’s going to understand and relate to what you’re going through.” Erica knows she’s describing herself. 

Lydia gives Erica a once over and a feral grin. “Exactly.”

Erica stands to see Lydia out. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out this time, but I’ll keep you in mind for the future.” Erica crosses to the front of her desk. 

Lydia stands up, all five feet-three inches of her atop those strappy sandals. “I hope you do.”

Erica leans down and lets her get an eyeful of her décolletage, then kisses Lydia on both cheeks.

“Call me,” Lydia whispers away from the cameras.

Erica shivers from the sensation of being cheek to cheek, and Lydia’s breath on her. Erica squeezes her hand gently as they part. For a minute she loses track of the cameras, crew, and her assistants; she’s not a professional matchmaker or a TV personality, she’s just a woman who hasn’t been on a date in months and has spent even longer in a self-imposed celibacy.

After Lydia leaves and the camera crew takes a break, Isaac and Boyd make themselves scarce. They vacate Erica’s office to do work or putz around on the internet, she’s not sure which and cares even less. Erica looks at Pinterest and Tumblr but without much patience. She picks up her cell phone a few times and debates sending Lydia a text. It’ll be a while before Erica is alone and can actually call her, but she wants Lydia to know she received her message, loud and clear. 

About an hour later, Stiles and Derek arrive. Erica can smell her bachelors of the week as they enter the office, but she doesn’t go to greet them. Instead, she uses the time the crew is busy setting up the next scene perusing Lydia’s social media accounts. Erica settles for adding Lydia on Twitter and reading her timeline. It feels less invasive than poking around her Facebook. Erica doesn’t understand any of the math related tweets, but she’s entertained nonetheless. 

A production assistant comes into Erica’s office and tells her when they’re just about ready. Erica checks her hair and makeup in her compact, teases her hair with her fingers and applies another coat of pink lipstick. She looks perfect, but she knows it’s lost on all the men in her office. Someone calls action and her two assistants walk into her office with her clients.

Erica stands to greet them with hugs. Stiles’ shoulders look great in a henley and she gives him a tight squeeze and a lingering sniff. She confirms her suspicion and when she looks up she gives Derek a lascivious look. Derek rolls his eyes but lets Erica hug him next. Erica can’t help it if her hand wanders an inch lower on his waist than is strictly necessary. Stiles must notice because Erica can scent his momentary jealousy.

Erica smiles at her clients after offering them chairs. “I’m so happy to see you guys!”

“Really?” Stiles croaks.

“Of course! You’re probably two of my favorite clients.” Erica can’t help having a soft spot for them.

“Even though we both struck out?” Stiles asks incredulously.

Erica has to check herself before she starts to giggle. “Well, okay, so your dates didn’t go well.”

“We already talked to Allison and Lydia,” Isaac says.

“They both had a nice time, but we know neither of you hit it off,” Boyd adds.

Stiles and Derek exchange a look. Stiles blushes, pink radiates down his long neck. Derek reaches over and grabs Stiles’ hand, maybe unconsciously, and squeezes it gently. Stiles seems surprised by the public display of affection.

“But...I think we might have succeeded anyway?” Erica tests them.

“I guess the jig is up,” Stiles says to Derek.

Derek breaks out into a wide grin and laughs. Stiles throws his head back and cackles. It’s infectious and soon Erica and her team are laughing along with them. When Erica catches her breath she gives Isaac and Boyd a triumphant grin. 

“It’s true,” Derek speaks up, “we’re together.” He gives Stiles a private look.

Erica can’t help it if her heart melts a little at the way Stiles and Derek look at each other. They’re clearly in the early stages of love, or at the very least, the passionate beginning of something serious. 

“Wait, seriously?” Isaac asks.

Boyd smacks Isaac playfully on the shoulder.

“What?” Isaac’s eyes go wide with surprise. “I thought they were just really good friends.”

“You would think that,” Boyd snarks.

“Well, tell me how it happened,” Erica demands. She leans forward and cups her chin in her hands.

Derek looks at Stiles and urges him to speak with his impressive eyebrows. 

“Oh, so now you’re going shy on me?” Stiles teases.

Derek looks mortified to have everything play out on camera, but he’s not hiding.

“Aw, babe, I got this,” Stiles says and gives Derek’s hand a squeeze back.

Erica smiles as Stiles describes how they met and just hit it off, first as friends, and then how that friendship grew into something more. 

“It was fast, but it didn’t feel fast. You know?” Stiles looks over at Derek for confirmation.

“It felt right,” Derek agrees.

Erica finds herself nodding along. “When it’s right, it’s right, and you just know.”

“I feel bad about how much work you put into the mixer,” Stiles admits.

“Oh, please,” Erica brushes him off.

“I was pretty much gone on this one already.” Stiles motions toward Derek with his thumb.

“I’m fairly certain so was he.” Erica gives Derek a pointed look.

Stiles looks bashful, but Erica can scent his growing pride. She’s happy that Stiles is finally letting go of some of his insecurities, and even more impressed that Derek has had that effect on him in such a short amount of time.

“It’s true,” Derek finally speaks up. He looks at Stiles like he’s forgotten about the cameras completely. “I think there was one point during the mixer that I just wanted to quit and run away, but then you looked at me and smiled. I knew I could get through it because you were there.” 

Stiles leans over and brushes his nose against Derek’s cheek. For the only human among them, Stiles is acting just like a werewolf in love.

Erica doesn't want to interrupt their tender moment, but the cameras are still on them. "I'm so so happy for you two. I had my suspicions, but I didn't want to say anything in case I had misread the situation."

"We both felt the same way, confused about what the other might be feeling," Stiles explains.

"I couldn't remember if I mentioned to Derek that you were bi. It didn't seem relevant at the time since you both asked me to set you up with women," Erica says.

"Somehow you matched us with someone who meets our non-negotiables but in a totally unexpected way," Derek adds thoughtfully.

"You're absolutely right." Erica preens. "Damn, I'm good."

Isaac and Boyd shake their heads and chuckle.

"So, I'm assuming you two have sealed the deal?" Erica leers at them suggestively.

Stiles nods his head vigorously and Derek answers simultaneously, "We agreed that this is a committed and monogamous relationship already, if that's what you're wondering."

Boyd claps Derek on the back. “You wish that’s what she was wondering.”

Derek turns an adorable shade of red. “Sorry, I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I hope to God you’ve done more than kiss that man,” Erica jokes with Stiles.

Stiles waggles his eyebrows.

“Please, my mother is going to watch this,” Derek pleads.

“She certainly raised a gentleman,” Isaac says.

Everyone laughs and Derek scrunches up his face in embarrassment.

“All kidding aside, I’m really happy for you guys. What’s next for you two?”

Derek looks over at Stiles again, like they're already capable of having a whole silent conversation. “Actually, we’re planning a trip together,” Derek says with a smile that lights up his whole face.

Erica’s heart soars. “I hope you have a long and happy future ahead of you. I want to dance at your wedding.” She’s so proud of the match between her two millionaires. Their unexpected path to finding each other has renewed her faith in love and kismet. Watching Derek and Stiles makes Erica believe once more that everyone deserves happiness and her purpose in life is helping people find it.

* * *

A few months later, Erica watches the Derek and Stiles episode of _The Millionaire Matchmaker: Supernatural Edition_ from the comfort of her bed. Erica plays idly with Lydia’s hair as she rests her head in her lap. They both laugh at their own unresolved sexual tension as it plays out on the screen. Isaac texts Erica during a commercial break and thanks her again for bringing Allison into his and Scott’s life. All those years of Erica wondering why they didn't work as a couple were answered when Allison entered the picture. Boyd is incommunicado throughout the episode, but Erica knows it’s because he’s spending the week with Cora up in the Bay Area. When Derek gives Lydia a foot massage during the date scene, Lydia leans up and gives Erica a sensual kiss. 

Before the credits roll, a still image of Stiles scenting Derek in Erica’s office dominates the screen. The caption beneath it reads: While their respective dates didn’t work out, Stiles and Derek turned out to be the perfect match for each other. Their relationship has remained hot and heavy, and presently they are on a romantic getaway somewhere in the English countryside.

Erica leans back further into the pillows and sighs wistfully. “So, what are your thoughts? Did I do good?”

Lydia grabs the remote and clicks the TV off for the night. She crawls up the bed and straddles Erica’s thighs. She cups Erica’s face in her hands and kisses her sweetly. “I think you’re an amazing matchmaker.”

“You think I’m _amazing_.” Erica tries not to sound cocky and fails.

Lydia pulls away and fixes Erica with an adoring, loving look--the kind of look Erica has only witnessed between her clients and acted out in TV and movies. “I do. I think you’re amazing,” Lydia says.

Erica’s fears about Lydia turned out to be wrong; Lydia is the opposite of what Erica expected. Lydia may be career-oriented, but she’s fiercely loyal, and never more than a phone call away. She makes Erica feel like the best possible version of herself. Lydia is still _absolutely_ Erica’s type, but there’s no need for Erica to keep her guard up anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue gets its title from the same song as the story, [The Remains of Rock and Roll](https://youtu.be/DxsceTbeRyY) by Broken Bells.
> 
> I appreciate each and every person who's stuck with me on this fic. Thank you for very kudo, comment, and hit.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic never would have seen the light of day if it wasn't for foreverblue-navy, who has been holding my hand since August. Check out the [amazing edit](http://moonwasours.tumblr.com/post/105638432610/we-prefer-good-love-to-gold-aka-the-millionaire) she did and come say hi on [tumblr](http://moonwasours.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Many thanks to clio-jlh for her beta work and feedback.


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